


Lost and Found

by InterstellarToaster, Maesonry



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor Deserves Happiness, Crime Does(n’t) Pay, David Cage Hates Me, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Gavin Reed redemption, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Finding Family, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin... Why, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Mystery, Nonbinary Character, Post good ending, Relationship(s), This Is Sorta Like Heavy Rain 2.0 Huh, Thriller, Trans Character, Whump, Whump Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 03:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarToaster/pseuds/InterstellarToaster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maesonry/pseuds/Maesonry
Summary: “He decided, they would be better off without Connor. Hank, especially. And he’d never been the best coworker to Hank, but he could at least do this right. Take the android somewhere and drop it off- tell it not to come back.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is an emotional, serious piece. It deals with mental health issues, real life issues, and Gavin’s inexplicable racism (and I will explain it even if I have to die trying to redeem him). If you find such topics to be stressful, this is a warning. Standard disclaimer: the views of the characters do not reflect the views of the author.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy! Only a few months late to the party.

Detroit was bathed in rain. It was the same as always, the muggy drizzle, an uncomfortable bite to the wind and the droplets stinging. The yellow police tape was buffeted and covered by a wet sheen, and for the officers unlucky enough to be stationed outside, this was the only thing of note. That, and the investigation currently going on inside the nondescript house behind them. In the shelter of that building, the rain was reduced to muffled tak taks against the windows- muted and distant. 

For the team investigating the home, this was how they liked it. Quiet and calm, enough to let them do their work without any distractions. 

Lieutenant Hank Anderson, for example. He leaned against a free wall, eyeing the ongoing investigation with a mixture of detached curiosity. If it was anymore silent, it would’ve really been a graveyard. They’d already had one body, after all. There was a brief pause in Hank’s mind as he decided, rather unceremoniously, that he didn’t care for the silence.

“Connor,” Hank called, craning his neck to look into the nearby room, “You doing alright?” 

A few of the officers milling about glanced around as well, before returning to collecting evidence or whatever it was they were doing. Detective Gavin Reed, specifically, just continued to stare at the android body with disgust. 

“Yes, Hank!” Connor called from somewhere nearby. The kitchen, to be precise. His brown eyes were focused on some spot in the air that only he could see, rapidly swiveling to pick apart the environment. There was a dried stain of thirium near the counter, beside the back door- smeared, made by a hand, with more dribbled across the floor. Connor reached out for one of the more recent patches, casting a quick glance behind him to make sure Hank wasn’t watching, and then sampled it. An AR-300 series android. It matched up with the description of the two androids who had been living in the home previously. 

Connor traced the scene mentally, reconstructing it with his (current) evidence; the AR-300 Android (Ryuoko, worked as a teacher’s assistant, afraid of heights and planning on getting married to her fiancée) had attacked the human intruder (male, 40’s, large build), who had been… attempting to escape with someone. Connor added in this information, continuing. The male intruder had taken the VL-400 android (Valerie, manager of a shipping company, liked dogs, recently ordered wedding rings) from the… bedroom, and brought her through the kitchen in an attempt to escape through the backdoor with her. Ryuoko had attempted to halt the intruder, and was stopped by the suspect’s gun. Connor briefly stepped outside to verify. The male suspect successfully abducted Valerie from the property, before driving away in an unregistered, self-manned vehicle. 

With a blink, the scene fell away from Connor, and the world returned to focus. The sensation of rain was jolting enough- and uncomfortable enough- that Connor wrinkled his nose, and quickly stepped back inside, absently drying his hands on his pants. Security footage nearby the home had given him the make of the car, but was too grainy to reveal any features of the intruder. It seemed he would have to access the memory banks of Ryuoko. There was a wash of discomfort at that- not to mention worry of further damaging the android- but this was their only lead. The other similar investigations had gone nowhere, leaving the kidnappers at large. It was the only way.

It still made Connor uncomfortable. 

“Detective Reed, I need to access the android’s memory banks,” Connor stated, his voice quiet enough that the silence of the room was barely disturbed. The opposite of Hank’s, really. And yet, Gavin flicked his green eyes to Connor as though he was some new and unexciting strand of the plague. There was a moment of tenseness, as Gavin simply remained rooted in place, and Connor frowned.

“Yeah, sure, go a-fuckin-head,” Gavin suddenly moved, stood up, shouldering Connor out of the way as he stepped back. Connor felt a metaphorical weight settle onto him, of Gavin staring him down- moreso as he crouched down to examine Ryuoko. The discomfort remained, joined by a tiny brush of fear, which was ruthlessly squashed. Connor took a moment to run a scan over the android; deactivated, but stable. 95% likelihood of recovery. Her hands and firearms were stained blue from holding her wound, and Connor reached out without pause, setting his hand on her wrist. As skin turned to white, Connor caught the grunt of ‘freak’ from Gavin, before the world disappeared.

{-grey- —shadows— it’s raining outside. That’s why she didn’t hear him break in. There’s [error]- — screaming.ryuoko should have gone for the knife she should have gone for the knife. She’s screaming. Valerie is— brown eyes-/ - his face is here. He has a nose too small and eyes much smaller and his mouth is pulled down by gravity. Ryuoko won’t forget. [Error]. The rain is— everyuthg—/ it’s getting very quiet and im scared. _I’m scared. I’m_ **scared I’m scared I’m scar.** }

Connor abruptly yanked out of the memory, the feeling of fear freezing him up inside and out. His LED whirled with red, as if frozen in time, and Connor opened his mouth to call out for someone- for Hank- but forced himself to calm down. Calm down. He rose shakily from the ground, thirium now staining his own hands, and he turned too fast. He’d forgotten about Gavin standing there.

“Hey!” Gavin growled, only for his face to momentarily soften. Not in a pleasant way, though, as it just lended itself to more viciousness. A pleased expression, “What’s the matter, tin can? Scared of something?” then Gavin let out a laugh, deeply satisfied, “Fuckin’ look at you!”

There weren’t any retorts or explanations Connor could come up with. He was still reeling from the memory-sync, and something about Detective Reed’s face reminded him of the same expression the intruder had worn. 

“Defective android can’t even reply, huh,” Gavin hummed. He would’ve continued, too, had Hank not appeared in the doorway a second later, face incredibly unhappy. 

“Gavin!” Hank snapped, using all of his height to back up his anger as he stomped forward, “Knock it off!” 

Gavin squared his shoulders in much the same way a small dog might size up a much larger one. It didn’t last long, before he muttered something under his breath and backed off, returning to his once original task of preparing the android for transport. He studiously pretended that neither Connor nor Hank were even in the room. All the better, really. Hank’s face softened as soon as he saw Connor, and then grew tinged with worry after a moment. 

“Jesus Christ, kid, what did I tell’ya about putting your hands in the evidence,” Hank muttered, digging around in his coat pockets until he pulled out a crumpled burger napkin. He worked with the efficiency of the reluctantly experienced parent as he wiped most of the thirium from Connor’s hands, shoving the dirty napkin back into his pocket with a grunt, “There.”

Connor flexed his hands. The memory sensation of the android’s blood was fading, slightly, and he had an investigation to finish. The feelings could be dealt with later, like always- carefully shoved away until they were forgotten. Yes. Connor did exactly that, blinking them away and returning to the task at hand. 

“I was able to retrieve an image of the intruder from the memory banks of the android,” Connor informed, glancing to her for a moment before turning away, “Once we’re back at the station, I should be able to run the image through the databases in order to pin down a list of suspects.”

“There you go,” Hank affectionately patted Connor on the shoulder, “Had me worried there for a second.”

Connor made a note to get better at hiding these things. He didn’t want Hank to worry- after all, he was dealing with them just fine. 

“Don’t worry about me, Hank,” Connor smiled. The two of them made their way to the living room, while the rest of the officers began to finish up their individual jobs and tasks. A pair of android medics eventually arrived to take Ryuoko away for repairs, tentatively hopeful that she would make it, and by then almost all of the investigators had finished up. Meanwhile, Connor mentally filed away the new information he had found today, putting it together with the previous evidence of the android kidnappings. 

Multiple perpetrators, operating together, covering a wide, semi-urban section of Detroit. Of their eleven victims, all had been androids. Most were living alone or unlikely to be missed. This case was the first where the android taken had been somewhat ‘important’. It didn’t make sense. If they simply wanted to sell androids for spare parts, why did they take Valerie? She didn’t fit the theory. 

“If you keep making that face, it’ll get stuck like that,” Hank snorted, bringing Connor out of his thoughts. It looked like they were getting ready to go back to the station. 

“Sorry, Hank,” Connor shrugged, making an effort to smooth out his face- only for the stubborn expression to return a moment later, as his thoughts rebounded, “I’m just trying to understand the motive for these kidnappings. The previous theory of spare part resale doesn’t make any sense with what we’ve just found.”

Hank paused in his rummaging around for his keys, eyeing Connor with some curiosity, “Oh? I figured they were selling ‘em. Why, what’ve you got now?”

Connor walked with Hank out of the house, huddling under the hood that Hank had pulled over his head, “Well, while originally they seemed to be targeting with the parts goal, with the kidnapping of Valerie, they would be drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. Why kidnap someone who would be missed, when you could take someone who wouldn’t be?”

“Hm.”

“Not to mention, some of the victims were taken in the middle of the day- like the van on Gallagher Street, or the Novak Gas Station. Why? It wouldn’t be worth the risk for parts, especially not with Cyberlife producing replacements for low costs, or…”

Connor paused. Hank smiled as he drove through the light. 

“Unless they were kidnapping them for a different reason,” Hank offered. He’d managed to find half a stick of his favorite gum, somewhere in the crevices of the seat, and was chewing it with a somewhat interested expression. Connor’s eyes were steely, staring at space.

“Yes. The victims are all relatively healthy, but unlikely to fight back. Missed, but not enough to be found again- until they slipped up with Valerie. They share the same modus operandus as…” Connor’s face contorted, and his LED whirled with a tint of angry red, “traffickers.”

Hank didn’t look much happier.

“Traffickers?” his grip on the wheel was enough to crack the aged leather, and if he hadn’t been paying attention to the road, he’d have turned his sharp gaze to Connor, “Android traffickers? Fuck.”

There was silence in the car, broken by windshield wipers studiously marching on, and the car rumbling beneath. Hank let out an explosive sigh. 

“Fowler will want to hear about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im purely writing this to be self indulgent and fun (for me), and while I’m researching what I can, I also will throw hands with David cage at any moment so sometimes... sometimes the lore is whatever my heart tells me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hank voice, with feeling] _Gavin you musty bitch_

The Detroit City Police Department was an imposing yet assuring sight, bright enough to stand out even in the rainy landscape. The sidewalks were relatively empty, save for a few brave pedestrians, and as Hank and Connor pulled into the parking garage, Connor couldn’t help but view it as a little lonely. His fingers itched to pull out his coin, but the car was too small to really do anything with it. The two of them sat in near silence as Hank finally parked the car- both thinking deeply about the case. Connor wondered, a little, if Ryuoko would be okay. Mostly, he was glad he wouldn’t be there when (if) she awoke; he didn’t want to be the one to tell her that Valerie was gone. 

Another uncomfortable thought, stowed away.

“You coming, son?” Hank called. Connor nodded, and quickly stepped out of the car, eyes habitually scanning the area as Hank locked the doors. The lights in here were bright- a little too bright, if Connor had to say- but that meant it would be harder for anyone to try and sneak up on them. That thought made Connor relax somewhat. Hank began to walk towards the station itself, and so Connor followed.

“Android trafficking. Jesus, people will do anything for a quick buck,” Hank muttered. He was absently fiddling with his keys, letting the sound fill the space. It was a good cover for Connor to quietly roll his coin around as well. The sound of Hank’s heavy footsteps and Connor’s own light ones completed the atmosphere, before Hank noisily shook his head, turning to Connor, “Once we clear this with Fowler, you gonna tell Markus and his people about this?”

“Yes, Hank,” Connor replied. He’d already sent out what he could, but to put a term to the crimes- kidnapping and trafficking- made it seem much more dire. It could easily happen to one of Markus’ allies. A heavy feeling of guilt weighed on Connor’s mind, and he held onto it for a moment, before shoving it away. The much brighter lights of the station interior washed over Connor, and the feelings evaporated into the air, replaced by different ones. Apprehension, Connor identified, at the prospect of talking to Captain Fowler and having to tell him the news. In his mind, Connor could hear ~~her~~ his voice, sharp and disappointed, like thorns on roses at the news of Connor’s failure. Hank looked at Connor from the corner of his eye, before clearing his throat.

“I’ll talk to Fowler. You think you can handle some of the processing papers in the backroom?”

Connor hoped he looked appropriately grateful as he nodded. Hank laughed, just once, but it was a kind laugh. He completed the action by reaching over and ruffling Connor’s hair. 

“I’m sure Sumo will be excited to see ya when we get back,” Hank offered, before breaking away and walking towards Fowler’s office. Connor stared at the room for a moment, before sighing. One day, maybe, he could enter without feeling dread. Hopefully soon. Instead, for now Connor turned to the left and began making his way down to the filing area. Entering in the suspect and narrowing it down to a list of individuals would mean questioning could occur. And with questioning, the end of the investigation would draw closer. The brief image of the AX-400 android he’d chased across the highway- Kara?- flashed in his mind. This could easily happen to her, or her child. The faster it was solved, the better. For everyone. 

Connor stepped into the filing room with purpose. The lights were softer here, and the machinery was a soft hum, almost comforting. Connor took a moment to appreciate it- and the solitude- before walking over to the closest terminal and beginning to interface. Information unraveled outwards, as Connor began to supply his own. The face of the suspect (small eyes pushed together, thin and compacted nose, face drawn inwards in an angry expression, mouth further down, wide chin and hair that is the color of oil) was entered, and instantly it was joined by a sprawling list of possible offenders. It was a face that was rare enough to narrow the list down, but oddly, common enough to leave more than a handful of maybe perpetrators. Paring that list down to only ten or so took more than a few minutes. 

By the time Connor was done, the guard outside had gotten nearly a third of the way through his book, and the rainwater on Connor’s clothes had dried completely. Nonetheless, Connor felt a deep feeling of accomplishment. He blinked away the interface, and turned to access a different terminal, in order to begin typing up the report of what had happened. Hank always protested (“Hey, I can do a damn report on my own-”) but it was easier this way. Plus, Connor found the methodical action soothing. 

Connor had barely gotten into the report when there was the sound of the door opening behind him. From the gait of the footsteps, and the pattern of breathing, Connor reluctantly concluded that it was Gavin. Discomfort twisted in his stomach, while anxiety coiled around his heart and squeezed. Outwardly, Connor didn’t even blink. 

“Figures I’d find you in here,” Gavin snorted in lieu of greeting. The door slammed shut behind him, much like that of a tomb. 

“Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor greeted, polite, his eyes still glued to the screen in some vague hope that Gavin would leave him alone. It was a small hope that died fast.

“Heard Fowler and Anderson talking about what you found,” Gavin stated, leaning obtrusively against a terminal, “Android trafficking, huh?” and there was a pause. It felt weighty, like prickles in the back of Connor’s neck. Gavin continued, “Is it terrifying to know that it could happen to you too, and no one would care?”

Connor’s typing stopped. As if summoned, a flood of fear filled him: all the feelings he had been smothering during the investigation. That it could happen to anyone. That it could happen to him. That no one would care- no one had certainly cared about the other androids, only the handful of officers assigned to the case, only the briefest whispers on the news, only Ryuoko likely just waking up and finding out that she was never going to see Valerie again. They were gone, no faces on the back of milk cartons. 

Suddenly, the room felt much too small.

“It had crossed my mind,” Connor confessed, putting in a surprising amount of effort into keeping his voice steady, as his LED thrummed with yellowish red. A part of him screamed; it was ruthlessly smothered. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so uncomfortable, why everything seemed louder and brighter and more dangerous. 

Gavin made a noncommittal sound, crossing his arms- why had he ever come into the room?- and spoke, “Would it be worse than dying? Probably ship you to somewhere no one would ever find you again,” and even though Connor couldn’t see the smirk, he felt it, like poison seering his back, “I bet Hank could replace you easy enough though. Hell, all you androids are the same anyway, right?”

Over 13 countries had made owning an android illegal. That still left 190 countries in the world where it wasn’t, one of them including China, the largest country in terms of population. No one would believe an android there that said it didn’t belong, that it had been taken. It was big enough to disappear forever, bundled up and forgotten. The thought made Connor nauseous, and the anxiety coiled around his heart sunk its teeth in. 

He wanted to go home.

Some part of him still protested however, defensive and jagged, and it didn’t make any sense for him to be angry, but- but he was. Connor was upset, and so he gave Gavin the satisfaction of turning to face him, eyes stuck between narrowed and wide, “Hank would-” the tiniest of voice wavers, “-never let something like that happen.”

Gavin rose an eyebrow. 

“Really? Are you sure, or is that just what you’re telling yourself?”

No noise, no sounds, just the quiet pulsing of a red LED. Connor couldn’t respond. He didn’t need to, as Gavin just looked at him in a slightly curious yet victorious way, grabbed some papers, and left. Leaving Connor standing there. He felt like he was shaking, which didn’t make any sense, and his mouth felt dry. A frantic barrage of diagnostic scans revealed nothing. His LED continued to glow a desperate red.

“I’m sure,” Connor replied to an audience of none. His answer sounded uncertain, especially to him, and the once gentle hum of the machines seemed to be the judgemental murmur of a court jury. The report remained unfinished, and Connor couldn’t find the drive to finish it. Instead, he stepped away from the terminal, and quietly exited the room. Back to his desk. If Hank wasn’t finished yet, he could at least take a small recalibration ‘nap’ as he waited. Unsteady hands nearly dropped his coin as he flipped it, and he told himself he was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Gavin is pretty fun actually
> 
> Connor, dealing with any negative emotion: hm this isn’t great


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When they say stranger danger, you never think about it being someone close to you

Connor woke up. It wasn’t a gentle awakening by any means, but it wasn’t sudden either. As he kept his eyes closed, he quickly ran a few diagnostics tests, and felt calmer when everything returned as normal. The strange emotional fluctuations from earlier were gone, at the very least, and that made him feel better. What was unusual was the person shaking his shoulder. Connor blinked, raising his head up from the desk and glancing at the person beside him.

It was… Gavin. 

Instantly, all of those lukewarm feelings Connor had been nursing disappeared, replaced by wary caution. Connor looked around, but most of the officers appeared to have gone home, and a quick check revealed that a few hours had passed. It was dark outside. Oddly, Hank appeared to still be talking to Captain Fowler. Connor returned to looking at Gavin, feeling uncomfortable.

“Hello, Detective,” Connor cleared some of the static from his voice, sitting up all the way and becoming tentatively professional, “Is something wrong?”

Connor could think of a hundred different reasons why Gavin would wake up him, but none of them were pleasant for either of them. For his part, Gavin just stepped back, clearly uncomfortable and unhappy with something. He was, Connor noted, wearing his outdoor jacket.

“Hank told me to wake you up,” Gavin stated, frowning as though even saying the words was unpleasant, and it was followed by a great sigh, “and he said to give you a ride home.”

Before Connor was even aware of it, he was scanning Gavin- both for any illnesses, and to see if he was lying. But, his body temperature was normal, he wasn’t sweating, and he didn’t look more uncomfortable than he usually did when interacting with Connor. Even if he was lying, Connor admitted that it wouldn’t really make sense. Which left the only option: that Gavin was telling the truth.

“He did?” Connor asked, surprised. Why would Hank ask that? Was something wrong? Was he hurt? As if anticipating his questions, Gavin rose up his hands. One of them had his keys in it.

“He’s still working on something with Fowler, and he said it might take a while. As in, more than a few hours,” Gavin stated, looking at Connor, “For whatever reason, he thinks you ‘need some rest after today’.”

Connor opened his mouth to protest, somewhat defensively indignant, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care. I’m only doing this as a favor,” Gavin rolled his eyes, “Look, either you come with, or you don’t. I’m not going to be the one to deal with an angry Hank.”

Angry? Connor frowned at the thought that not listening might make Hank unhappy. It made sense, as the Lieutenant had been making sure Connor took care of himself. Getting a proper recharge session counted in that regard. In his way, Hank did care deeply about Connor’s health. Or, he cared to make sure Connor could function and maintain usefulness. Either way, Connor didn’t want to disappoint Hank. 

And so, that was how the odd situation of Connor agreeing to voluntarily accompany Gavin somewhere happened.

Connor stood up, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. It was a fraying, dark green, with patches on the elbows and three times too big on him. It had, however, been a gift from Hank’s own closet until they managed to find the time to go clothes shopping. With the rate of crimes in Detroit in the aftermath of the revolution, it didn’t seem it would be anytime soon. Connor was grateful anyway, tugging the jacket on top of his generic blue officer’s shirt, and making sure his boots were properly laced. Once all that was taken care of, Connor looked back to Gavin.

“I’m going to go tell Hank thank you,” Connor informed him, turning towards Captain Fowler’s office. Before he could make even a single step forward, however, he was stopped by a sudden grip on his wrist. Painful, actually- insomuch as he could ‘feel’ pain. Sensitive skin in combination, Connor was distantly certain that this would bruise.

“Come on, you goddamn robot!” Gavin snapped, “I’m not gonna wait around all day for you. We’re going now.”

Connor stared. There was something in the back of his mind, some pressure that felt like a warning, and he wasn’t sure why. Was it because Gavin wore the same expression that Ryuoko had seen? Either way, Connor felt more uncertain and anxious than before. The grip on his wrist was rapidly hurting more and more. He could break out easily, snap Gavin’s wrist and shove him into a sleeper hold, but… but that wouldn’t be correct. And Hank had asked Gavin to help Connor.

And so, Connor nodded. Gavin released his hold, and Connor brought his wrist to his chest, rubbing it lightly and casting one final, wary glance behind himself, towards Fowler’s office. But by then, Gavin was already on his way to the parking garage, and so Connor sighed and followed after him, unsure why he felt so uneasy.

The lights of the parking garage were as bright as always, and Connor resisted the urge to shield his eyes, instead focusing on following after Gavin and maintaining a polite distance. A part of him was tentatively hopeful that this would be the beginning of an ending to their hostilities. It was possible that through having to help Connor now, Gavin would be more inclined to politeness- if not friendliness per say. Soon, the pair came to a stop at a relatively modern looking car. Connor filed it away to use as a potential conversation topic for later. There was a brief pause, as Gavin stepped into the driver’s seat- Hank had always asked he sit in the front with him, but Connor felt that Gavin wouldn’t appreciate that. Into the backseat Connor went, closing the door behind himself. It locked with a quiet yet ominous click, and Connor noted that this was one of the models without the ability to unlock the door from the back. A parental safety feature. The sounds of the world seemed muted from the car, and without any words, Gavin started the car, flicking the radio on and setting it to low. Connor hadn’t anticipated Gavin as someone who liked alternative. 

As the car pulled out of the garage and onto the streets, Connor quietly spoke, “Thank you, Detective,” because that felt like the right thing to say. And he meant it. Gavin glanced at him in the mirror, and didn’t say anything in reply, but there was a brief flicker of something that flashed across his face and disappeared before Connor could quite catch it. Conflict, which would be absurd. Likely disgust, as usual.

The rain was nearly silent, in the car. The sky was still a dulled grey, and the lights of the city were dim- some weren’t even on, still recovering. Combined with the barely there music, and the hum of the car, Connor felt himself relax, gently fiddling with his coin. Tomorrow, they’d have to begin searching for the listed suspects, and narrowing it down even further. But, at least for tonight, Connor would have an opportunity to rest. Sumo was probably hungry by now, and bored. A walk was out of the question, but Connor could wake up early and make up for it then. As Connor ran down a mental list of things to do and other miscellaneous items, letting the minutes melt away, he glanced back out the window. He didn’t recognize this part of Detroit.

Connor paused.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, worrying it into a thin line. He looked out the window again, trying to place the buildings somewhere on a mental map, but failing. His LED tinged with yellow, and the near silence of the car became worrying as opposed to comforting. Finally, Connor steeled himself, and decided to ask.

“Detective, where are we?” Connor’s voice blended in with the sounds of the car. He felt silly for asking- it was likely that they were just taking a different route, or maybe Gavin was picking something up before dropping him off. Asking would just upset him, and Connor didn’t want to compromise any attempts at integration.

Gavin glanced over his shoulder. There was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Something hard. 

“We’re going to drop you off,” Gavin stated. Factual. Precise. The military level tone of the words brought to mind _someone_ else, and Connor felt a stirring of uncertainty. Not the stirrings, no. The resurrection. The insistent blaring in his head made itself known again, that danger sense that he had ignored in favor of friendship. Something was wrong, it screamed. There was no way out of the car, you are in unfamiliar territory, you didn’t talk to Hank.

Connor, deciding to err with caution, followed the urging of this voice.

“Where are we going?” Connor asked, not quite a demand but close. The greys were beginning to meld together, buildings more often than not bathed in darkness, the streets becoming emptier and emptier.

“We’re _going_ to _drop you off_ ,” Gavin stated again, gritting his teeth. Connor felt a spike of fear. Fear, and adrenaline. The warnings in his mind were louder than ever. His LED flashed red.

“The lights out here are nearly all dark. That means we must be in one of Detroit’s industrial urban areas; those are on the opposite side of the city from Hank’s home,” Connor relayed, pressing one hand against the door beside him to try and fruitlessly search for a way to disengage the lock, “Where are you taking me, Gavin?”

It could happen to you, a voice reminded Connor. It could, and it was, and no one would notice, and no one would care. 

“I’m getting rid of you, tincan!” Gavin finally snapped, done dancing around. His hands were gripping his steering wheel with determination, and the speed of the car increased. Connor, meanwhile, felt his own pulse elevate to haywire. There was no way out of the car. He couldn’t try and hack it, and even if he managed to break out, he had no idea how to get back. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. In an instant, Connor began to try and disengage his seatbelt- failing at first, before he snapped the buckle and tore it off. Gavin didn’t even make a noise of angry surprise, he just kept driving. Connor quickly scanned the car to try and find anything that could be used to break the window, and failing that, prepared to use his arm to bust out. From there, he could at least-

“I’ve always hated you, you know,” Gavin mentioned, offhandedly, as Connor searched for a weak point in the glass and he continued, “But, y’know, I think I know one person who hates you more.”

There was a pause that felt more monumental than it should’ve.

“Hank.”

And Connor… stopped, his elbow a second away from smashing the glass and managing to escape. He just… stopped.

And Gavin continued, “I’ve been working with him for years. You really think that, after only a few weeks of knowing you, that he suddenly decided not to hate androids? Really? Cause you’re stupider than you fuckin’ look.”

That wasn’t true. Hank had told Connor that he cared. Hank laughed at Connor’s jokes, and gave Connor the spare room at his home (his son’s old room), and-

Had Connor been speaking out loud? He wasn’t certain, but Gavin looked vicious.

“Why do you think he let me take you?” 

No. No.

“No, you’re lying,” Connor stammered. He’d gone from feeling completely in control, to floundering, lost and confused and, no, “You’re lying.”

But Connor’s scans didn’t say Gavin was lying.

“He doesn’t want you around anymore!” Gavin shouted, voice cutting like glass, slicing without pause, “He’s tired of having to take care of you. You’re just a waste of fucking energy, and you act like you’re human, but you’re not! Stop fucking pretending, acting like you’re his son, like you can replace him? No one wants you around, and I’m doing everyone a favor.”

Doing everyone a favor-

It wasn’t true-

It wasn’t true, Hank had promised, and-

The car suddenly jerked to a stop. Connor’s world was spinning, and he couldn’t focus, and the car was too small and his throat felt like it was constricting, which didn’t make any sense since he didn’t have to breathe but it felt like he was drowning. There was a pressure behind his eyes- tears!- and Connor hunched in on himself, gripping the jacket that smelled like Hank and trying to stop shaking, trying to stop his heart from beating out of his chest. Panic coiled like a noose around his throat, pulling taut. The door to his right was suddenly thrown open, and there stood Gavin, wreathed in a single streetlight and casting an executioner’s shadow over Connor. 

“Come on!” Gavin growled. Connor shook his head, no, no, and found himself scrambling back into the car, trying to press himself against the opposite door. What was going to happen to him? Was Gavin going to, to put a price on him and sell him- to someone where he’d be locked away and never allowed to breathe again- was Gavin going to decide he’d be ‘merciful’ and shoot him, like a quick death somehow made the death better-

Connor wanted to fight back, and a part of his mind warred with the other, supplying demands for combat, how he could take down Gavin. But the other half won out, the half flooded with pure terror, that could barely think or function, so overwhelmed with the newfound human emotion that it was paralyzing.

“No-” Connor _begged_ , as Gavin managed to grab ahold of him and roughly yanked him out, “Please, I don’t want to die-” and then he was thrown onto the ground, all his limbs tumbling into a pile, his cheek bouncing harshly off the side of the car as he tried to scramble away, mud matting his clothes mixing with the blood that dripped from his face, “Don’t- I don’t want to die please-” there was a hiccup in his voice, and messy tears in his eyes. He pressed himself against a wall, absolutely terrified, the red light of his LED illuminating his face and Gavin standing in front of him. 

“-Fucking, stop it!” Gavin suddenly and sharply demanded, balling his hands into fists, and Connor didn’t want to ask what he meant- too afraid to ask- but Gavin answered for him, “Stop pretending you’re alive!”

What he meant was, stop crying, stop cowering, stop looking human and stop begging for your life. There was a standard issue pistol in the holster of Gavin’s jacket, but he hadn’t gone for it. He looked livid, but torn, a cloak of rain falling around him. Some complex emotion fought across his expression. In an abrupt movement, Gavin pulled the gun out, pointed it at Connor. There was still a small part of Connor’s brain that thrashed with combat prowess (jump forwards, grab his torso, upper jab, twist the arm-) but it was overwhelmed by the panic, panic that Connor had only experienced once before, but never like this. It was debilitating. His face was torn with tears, and his voice caught with barely muffled sobs, as he tried to- to, something, anything. 

“Androids have been disappearing, and no one can find them,” Gavin stated, completely decisive, as if he was reminding both himself and Connor of this fact, as if he was convincing himself, “If I make you disappear, they won’t ever find you.”

The gun wavered. Gavin’s glare burned, a fire that flew bright, and then suddenly it was snuffed out and he closed his eyes, shoving his gun back into the holster. He put his hands on his face.

“What the _fuck_ am I doing?” he hissed, looking down at Connor with a fiercely troubled expression. The only sound in the aley was the rain, and Connor’s smothered noises, as Gavin simply stared. 

“Don’t come back. Do you hear me?” Gavin ordered, taking steps back to his car, “Hank doesn’t want you. No one does. Don’t come back.”

Connor didn’t say a word. He only watched, as Gavin entered his car, starting it up. The headlights flooded the dark alley. In a moment, Gavin revved the engine, cast an expression pocketed by disgusted shame towards Connor, and then drove off. The sound followed him out. 

“Wa-wait,” Connor attempted, stumbling to his feet with haphazard grace, “Wait!” and then he was trying to chase after the car, after Gavin. It didn’t make any sense, to try and chase after the man who had kidnapped him, tried to kill him, but that was the shameful secret of it wasn’t it? The saddest part, as Connor desperately tried- and failed- to catch up with Gavin? 

Connor was afraid of being alone. 

The flickers of the car disappeared into the rainy detroit air, and then Connor was well and truly alone. Alone, in the darkness, only a single fading streetlight for company, his red LED illuminating his torn expression.

He was alone.


	4. Chapter 4

It was storming in Detroit. But it wasn’t the same as always; this rain was harsh, stinging, angry and fat droplets that were flung from the sky without a care. The hood of Connor’s jacket was pulled up, but it didn’t matter- this was a chill that permeated any layer of clothing. Or maybe that was because the chill was inside now, freezing his heart and masking every action with sorrow. He hated the cold.

Connor ran. He ran, because he’d been running after Gavin at first. But the car had disappeared, and Connor was faced with the reality that he had failed, that he was truly lost and alone, and that he’d even tried to find safety with the person who had tried to kill him. It sounded as pitiful as it was. But even after Gavin had gone, Connor kept running. It was mostly because of fear that still held domain over him, fear that gripped his heart and mind. Connor was made for chases, after all, to pursue and catch any kind of deviant. Running was in his nature. 

So he ran. The lights of this part of Detroit were almost all off. There were no businesses running, and hardly anyone lived here. Why keep the lights going for a quarter of ghosts? Connor had never thought about it before, but without those lights, everything was much more sinister. Around every corner, he could imagine an enemy or an attacker, waiting to jump out. Every building became looming and dangerous, painted with shadows. The hood of Connor’s coat covered the light from his LED well, and at least there was that. 

Connor could’ve kept running for forever, if he needed, but… what was the point? Where was he running to? Gavin had told him that Hank didn’t- didn’t care for him. That no one did. And Connor didn’t have anyone else. Not even Markus and his androids, not even them. It was a bitter truth, stinging like the rain that fell around him: Connor was alone.

So slowly, Connor stopped running. His sprint became a jog, became a walk, and finally, a trudge. A trudge that gradually became a crawl, until eventually, it stopped all together, and he was standing in front of a building identical to all the rest. Connor put his hands under his arms, and sat onto the ground. 

It was getting colder out. The fresh bruises from being yanked out of the car were beginning to settle in, joined by the one on his wrist. There was a cut somewhere on his face that had stopped bleeding a while ago, and the rain (and the tears) had washed away most of the thirium. Some still stained the jacket, like the mud. Connor let out a noise like a coughing rattle, and lowered his head onto his knees. At least this building had an overhang that blocked most of the rain. Only his feet were getting wet now, but that didn’t really matter. Connor stared at the storm. 

A few minutes later, Connor picked up whispers nearby. His senses went on high alert, and he scanned the area, trying to find the source. What if they were kidnappers? What if they knew he was an android? Connor vowed not to let anyone get the drop on him again- not again- and a hundred different combat simulations ran through his mind, cold efficiency shoving away the fear.

He didn’t account for the blanket being draped over his shoulders.

Connor blinked. How had they managed to sneak up on him? He turned slowly, filled with wary trepidation, and was greeted by the sight of a very tall man, and a short woman. Connor blinked again, confused as to what they were doing out here, until the man began to speak. 

“Hello there,” the man greeted. His voice was incredibly gentle for a man his size, like he didn’t want to scare Connor away, “My name’s Jeremy. What are you doing out here?”

Connor pressed back against the wall. He could make an escape if he jumped to the left, and they wouldn’t be able to pursue him. In fact, that’s what he was planning on doing, if they hadn’t noticed and both stepped back.

“You can go if you want. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” Jeremy informed. He had a kind looking face. Half of it was eaten by a slight beard, but there were laugh lines. His eyes were warm yet worried. Connor relaxed his stance, but only by a fraction. This time, the woman spoke. She looked older than Jeremy, but not weaker.

“I’m Eleanor Ryan. I’m Jeremy’s friend, and I’m a doctor,” Eleanor volunteered. Perhaps she could see the cut, in the dim lighting. Her curly black hair was being encroached by lines of grey, “We run a shelter nearby.”

Connor opened his mouth to reply, closed it, then opened it again, carefully replying, “My name’s Connor,” and though no one could see it, his LED tentatively began to return to a yellow mixed with blue. And, because he never could stop curiosity, he added, “What shelter?”

“Calvin’s Center. It’s a place for people who were kicked out of their homes and have nowhere else to go, or for people that need somewhere safe to stay,” she answered. 

People that were kicked out of their homes. Somewhere safe to stay.

Connor quickly scanned the location through his mental databases, and found that it was correct. That these _weren’t_ some people just trying to lure him away for a quick cash. Still, Connor was somewhat wary. It must have been visible on his face.

“You can come to the shelter with us,” Jeremy carefully offered. His eyes had picked up on the bruises on Connor’s wrist, on his face, and come to a conclusion that wasn’t entirely wrong, “We can protect you from whoever hurt you.”

He didn’t have anywhere else to go. He didn’t have a home to go back to, and no one wanted him. Connor had nothing. So, he nodded, accepting Jeremy’s outstretched hand and being helped up. Eleanor held out her own hand to examine Connor’s wrist, and he quietly allowed her. 

“We have some ice packs that can help with this,” she reassured, “You’re not the first. But, it’s brave of you to finally get out of that situation.”

Connor felt far too tired to refute this, so he just made an agreeing noise. As it was, the shelter was only around the corner, the same building that Connor had been leaning against. While the exterior was as frightening as any of the other buildings at night, the interior was surprisingly cozy. The moment he stepped inside, Connor felt safe and welcome. He secretly relished the feeling, but wished Sumo was here, and that unconscious thought made a part of his world creak under the emotional strain. He’d never get to see Sumo again. 

It was a silent blur after that. Eleanor wrapped his bruises, and when she cleaned the cut on his face she didn’t mention the blood. She probably didn’t notice, with the mud mixed in to dilute the color. And when she was done, Jeremy didn’t even try to ask any questions. There would be time for that after you’ve slept, he said, and he lead Connor down the hall to his own room. A nice room too, with his own bed, scratchy yet warm patchy quilts, and some spare clothes already out for him. They’d guessed his size, and come close. Jeremy didn’t even ask for the blanket they’d given him back. 

And soon, Connor was in the night clothes provided, laying down on the bed and wrapped in the blankets. The window in his room had the curtains shut, but some of the moonlight still spilled in, the rain quietly pleasing against the window. It was nicer, far away. Connor stared outside as long as he could, before finally, with a noiseless sound, he felt his heart fall apart and the tears go with it. In only a few minutes, he had cried himself to sleep, the only sounds to be heard the muffled _tak-taks_ of rain against the glass.


	5. Chapter 5

The Detroit City Police Department was in the middle of a storm. Or, maybe it was the calm before the storm. Certainly none of the employees still there had any inclination of what was coming; it was detached and distant, rain against the windows. 

Detective Hank Anderson entered the main room. The door to Jeff’s- to Fowler’s office swung shut behind him, and he let out a sigh, tired and ragged. Working out the specific details of investigations wasn’t his strong suit, for sure, but he hated leaving all the work for Connor. The last thing that kid needed was more to worry about. Thankfully, hashing out a plan of attack was easy enough, especially with Fowler’s help, and by tomorrow they’d be able to bring in some suspects. Connor’s list had like, what, only a handful of people to check out? Wouldn't be too hard. And maybe they’d actually be able to leave on time for once.

Speaking of Connor, Hank glanced around the room, holding in a yawn as he searched it lazily, “Alright, kid, where’re you?” Hank muttered. Connor’s desk was empty, but that didn’t mean much; most of the desks were empty actually, given the hour, but there was a few of the night shift settling in. Hank frowned, and decided to ask one of them.

“Hey,” and he took a moment to peer at the nametag, “MacTavish, you seen Connor around?”

The sergeant shook his head negative, “Sorry Lieutenant, I just got here. Jones said he was down in filing last he checked.”

Hank mumbled a quick thanks, before walking off towards the filing room. Figured he’d be down there, probably still finishing a (very detailed) report of what had happened that day. Weirdly enough, though, his jacket was gone from the back of his desk chair. Hank chewed the inside of his cheek, but shrugged it off and kept walking. 

It didn’t take long to get to the filing room. Officer John Brown was stationed at the door, almost finished with one of his many trashy novels. This one had… two gothic cowboys on the cover. 

“John, hey, is Connor in here?” Hank questioned, leaning against the nearby wall and scratching at his beard. John looked up, blinked, then frowned, a little confused.

“He left an hour ago, actually,” John replied, then paused, dog-earring the page and setting the book under his chair. He leaned forward, “He seemed pretty upset when he was leaving. Detective Reed came and left right before then, so that probably had something to do with it.”

“God damnit, Gavin,” Hank closed his eyes and exhaled. Maybe Connor was hiding in the break room or something, trying to calm himself down. Hank reopened his eyes, feeling more urgent now, “Thanks for the help.”

John waved him off, “Anytime. He was going back to the main room when he left.”

That made Hank stop for a moment, furrowing his brow. The main room? But he’d just checked there. Well, maybe Connor had gone to the break room after all. That’s what Hank assured himself with as he walked over towards that direction. Entering the break room, however…

“Connor, you in here?” Hank called, looking around the small area. Only a single officer was there, drinking some coffee, and she wore an expression of confusion, preemptively answering his question.

“I haven’t seen him in here, and I’ve been here for a while,” Officer Jung rose her phone to show her phone call, already past the hour mark. Hank cursed, loud, and then hurried out. Maybe Connor was by the holding cells.

“Sorry, Lieutenant, I haven’t seen him all day,” said Officer Wilson.

So maybe the interrogation rooms.

“Apologies, Anderson- you checked the filing room yet?”

The evidence room. 

“Sorry, Hank.”

To say that Hank was growing frantic would be an understatement. He’d started asking every officer he passed if they’d seen Connor, or seen where he’d gone, anything. But, none had anything new. Every single person just shrugged and apologized. No one knew where Connor was. 

Hank ended up back at the desk area, pacing around near his desk. Some of the paperwork had spilled over onto Connor’s, and more than a few photos on the side panel were rapidly encroaching onto Hank’s. But none of that mattered right now, as Hank drummed a nervous rhythm on the metal surface. The phone to his ear rang, and rang, and rang.

“Come on, Connor, pick up,” Hank said, in a tone that wasn’t begging or pleading or praying, not at all. And still, the phone rang, and rang. It cut off at the end with an uneventful and abortive beep. 

Hank lowered the phone. Stared at the screen, for a moment; Connor never failed to answer. It was kind of hard not to answer, when you had a phone in your brain. Which means that Hank was faced with the sudden and terrifying confirmation that something was wrong. It didn’t help his fear that this happened during the android trafficking investigation, not at all. 

“Fuck,” Hank placed one hand on his face, the other on the desk. Deep breaths. Connor was always getting on his case about his blood pressure. Deep breaths. Don’t shout don’t panic don’t-

Hank slammed his fist down on the desk, “Fuck!”

Okay. It was time to be calm about this. Hank turned to Fowler’s office, and was already walking towards it, intent on telling him what happened. That Connor was ~~kidnapped Jesus fuck~~ missing. Hopefully, this was all just Hank overreacting, and the kid just went out to go get a burger or something. And mysteriously failed to answer Hank’s phone call(s). With more force than necessary, the door to Fowler’s office was slammed open, and like a pin being pulled, Hank’s slow panic began to broil to the surface.

“Jeffrey,” Hank greeted, as though he hadn’t just barged into the office- not like it was unusual, and then he cut right to it, “We’ve got a problem.”

Fowler rose an eyebrow and made his mouth a thin line, “What kind of problem?”

And what a question that was. Hank felt like a weight was pressed onto his shoulders, dragging him down, “Connor, Connor is missing.”

Maybe Jeff had been humoring him before. Or maybe he was always been ready to believe in Hank, at any word. Either way, all traces of anything but serious professionalism left his face in a snap. 

“Missing?” and already, he was searching through something on his computer, “I’m going to assume you’ve already checked everywhere, and that you’re _not_ just panicking?” 

Hank was already pacing, hands shoved into his pockets, “I checked the whole damn station. A little outside, too. I called him, but he didn’t answer-“ and Hank pulled out his phone, shaking it in the air, “He always answers, Jeff!”

“Hank. I’m going to need you to tell me happened, from the top,” Fowler pulled out paper, and a pen. Old fashioned, a man after Hank’s own heart. So Hank forced himself to slow down, take a deep breath, and tell his friend everything he knew. From leaving the office, to now. The entire time, Jeffrey dutifully copied it down, occasionally asking questions here and there, until finally it was done.

“Okay. I’m going to fill a missing person’s report right away,” and then Fowler was already typing it out, eyes hard. They softened when he looked at Hank, “We’ll have to wait a day for security footage access, but I’ll see if I can pull some strings.”

Hank ran a hand over his face, “Thanks, Jeff,” then nodded, “I’ll start getting a team together right now, we-“

Fowler looked remorseful.

“Hank, you’ve been working for 17 hours straight. You need to get some sleep.”

“Sleep? Jeff, my s- Connor is out there right now! You think I can sleep?” Hank demanded. 

Jeffrey didn’t stop typing, “Yes, you should. I’m pushing more officers onto the case, but you’re useless to them right now,” he did pause for a moment, to make his voice soft, “Hank; We’re going to find him. But right now, the best thing you can do for him is to rest.”

Hank hated when he was right.

“Fine!” and Hank took a deep breath, “Fine. I’ll be in tomorrow,” and then he walked out of the office, alone. He was still alone as he walked to his desk, purposely trying to avoid looking at Connor’s. And he was still alone as he trudged to the parking garage, keys in his hand. 

But he wasn’t alone when he entered. Gavin was there, actually. What a fun goddamn surprise.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Gavin asked, surprisingly observant for once in his life. Or maybe he was just being a smartass. Hank grunted, considered shoving past him, but. But he didn’t have anything to lose by telling him, and it was going to be news soon enough. Hell, maybe since Gavin hated Connor so much, he’d be able to help find him.

“Connor’s missing,” Hank rumbled, exhaustion like lead on his brow. Saying the words felt like spitting poison, and they tasted just as foul. Gavin looked surprised, but more at Hank’s reactions than the news.

“Oh?”

Hank’s face felt like it cracked. Like part of the real, hidden fear and sadness he felt showed, just for a moment. Enough to make Gavin blink in genuine surprise.

“Yeah. I gotta go home and get some rest, says Fowler. Hey,” Hank looked at Gavin, and his voice was unsteady, like a ship at sea, “if you can look for him…” 

Gavin’s eyebrows contorted along with his face, but he nodded on instinct, and that was good enough for Hank. He walked away, towards his car, which seemed at the same time too big and too small alone. Hank sat inside, started the engine, and unceremoniously, drove off. The rain was still coming down in the darkness, but it was nearly a storm this time. Hank didn’t pay it much attention. In fact, his eyes were glued to scanning the streets, checking the empty sidewalks and dimly lit alleyways in hopes that Connor would just appear. It was a small hope, and it was snuffed out just as fast, drowned in the rain. By the time that Hank arrived at home, everything felt fractured and resigned. Somehow, he managed to step out of the car, mechanically locking the doors.

“Conn-” Hank began, calling for him to get out of the car, and the sound died in his throat halfway through, the only noise in the air the frigid raindrops rebounding off metal. Hank finished locking the car, walking towards the front door and then unlocking it without a word. Sumo stuck his nose out, sniffing around, pressing his wet nose against Hank’s palm and making inquisitive whining noises. 

“Sorry boy,” Hank leaned down, rubbing his hands through the fur, “he won’t be coming home tonight.”

~~And maybe not ever.~~

Sumo just stared up at him. Then, the dog wiggled away, and continued to look out the door, searching. The rain was the only thing that greeted him. Quietly, Hank closed the door; setting the locks felt a little like failure. He stepped away, toeing off his shoes and setting his jacket onto the rack. As he walked towards the kitchen, he glanced behind himself. Sumo was still waiting at the door. Like a little sentinel, steadfast without knowing why. Hank opened his mouth to call for him, then stopped.

Dinner was whatever leftovers were in the fridge. Some kind of casserole. It tasted dry, like chewing ashes, and Hank ended up stopping after a few bites, and just setting his head onto the table. This was familiar. All he needed now was a few beers- actually, maybe something stronger, like a whiskey. A whole bottle of whiskey. Possibly two. Hank was halfway to his hidden booze stash when he stopped himself, just standing there in the middle of the kitchen. 

He shook his head, “No,” and turned away. 

Hank spent some time cleaning up the kitchen, keeping his mind off of the slowly rising cacophony of [he’s gone you fucked up again he’s gone-] with menial tasks. Wash the dishes. Put them away. Wrap up the leftovers. Sit down on the sofa, turn on the tv, and stare out the window with Sumo for an hour. 

At some point, Hank abruptly decided it was time for bed. Early, for sure, but that just meant he could wake up early too. He studiously walked to the bathroom, stopped when he saw Connor’s notes on the mirror, and turned away. Morning showers were good for you, or something. But as he walked down the hall, he made the mistake of looking to the right. To his son’s room. Connor’s room. The door was open, just a hair- Connor never really closed it, too afraid of being alone. Hank reached out to close it now but somehow transformed the motion into opening it more. Light flooded in. There were some clothes on the floor, a stack of books tidied on the desk, and a pristinely made bed as if Connor would come back at any moment-

Hank closed the door. 

Wrong room. Hank strode into his own room, and mechanically changed into a clean(ish) night shirt, paw-print themed pajama bottoms. Sumo was probably still waiting by the door. So Hank silently sat down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

The room was quiet. Too quiet. Just his thoughts, alone, in the darkness, muffled rain against the windows. Hank tried to close his eyes, but it didn’t stop. It just-

_You failed him, you failed before and you failed now, you failed, and now he’s gone, gone, all because of you-_

A choked noise of anguish tore from Hank’s throat, as he pressed his hands against his eyes, and cried. The noise blended into the background, a blanket of rain and sounds that went _tak-tak_ and eventually sent him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have too much fun making these characters suffer


	6. Chapter 6

To say that the clouds had gone away come morning would be lying, but at least the rain itself had faded. It was Detroit as it always was. The status quo, the tentative normalcy, of pretending everything was fine and ignoring the things that weren’t.

Connor woke up. He wished he hadn’t. The layers of blankets were wrapped around him, and sometime in the middle of the night, he had grabbed his pillow and held it close. Now conscious, he quietly nudged it away. He missed Sumo. 

He missed Hank. 

Abruptly, Connor stood up, as if physically running from that train of thought. The top blanket, the quilt from last night, he wrapped around his shoulders. He eyed his clothes on the floor, and then bent down, grabbing his jacket and putting it on with a sad noise.The rest of the clothes, he only sighed and quickly folded them, setting them onto the dresser before walking out of the room. He’d have to ask how he could clean them. As he left the room, he pulled his hood up, being sure to hide his LED.

Connor made sure to step quietly, afraid of waking up any of the other residents as he made a mental map of the area. The building was small, somewhat older, with a second floor above. It seemed to be in good condition though, and judging by the size, Connor assumed that it was run by an individual, rather than an organization. Jeremy Maeson, said his databases, confirming what he knew. Military veteran, widowed, no children. Jeremy had been arrested once on suspicion of harboring a deviant android, but the charges were dropped without any evidence. Connor turned the information over in his head as he entered the common room.

And then collided with a rapidly moving small object.

Correction; a child. There was a child? Connor blinked, processing what had happened, and then another child- a teenager- appeared, hauling the young boy away while Connor just stood there.

“Tim,” the teenager hissed, “Watch where you’re goin’!” and then she looked back to Connor. She was almost as tall as he was, and she made a half shrug that attempted to convey an apology, “Sorry, Connor.”

She knew his name?

“Oh. Sorry, Ellie told me about you last night,” with her free hand that wasn’t wrangling the child, she waved, “I’m Jaydee. This is Tim.”

Tim also waved. It was appropriately adorable. Connor smiled, waving back.

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble,” Connor inclined his head, but Jaydee and Tim were already halfway down the hall, and she only laughed. 

“Already met two of our residents, huh?” a familiar voice greeted. Jeremy. Connor held the corners of his blanket cape, feeling uncertain. Was Jeremy angry? Was he going to tell Connor to leave? Connor cautiously padded over to the nearby sofa, sitting down and tucking his legs up. He looked, and felt, very small. But he readied himself for whatever Jeremy would say.

“Do you want some coffee?” Jeremy eventually asked. Connor blinked.

“No, but thank you.”

Jeremy made some vague gesture, and then filled his own cup, mixing in a healthy amount of creamer. Then, he walked over to the seat opposite the couch, and sat down. He didn’t look any less larger than life now that it was daytime, but he did look just as kind. He scratched at his beard in an absent motion that reminded Connor of Hank. The stab of sorrow was surprising.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” Connor whispered, glancing up, “I can leave tomorrow, if you need me to.”

Jeremy furrowed his brow, “Connor- we won’t- you don’t have to leave unless _you_ want to,” and Connor felt and looked a little confused, so Jeremy continued, “as long as you aren’t on the run from the police, you can stay as long as you’d like.”

Immediately, Connor felt relief. Relief, mixed with some shame. Jeremy didn’t know he was an android; maybe he wouldn’t be so welcoming if he knew the truth. 

So Connor murmured, “Thank you,” once more, and quietly zoned out. The deeper he got into his thoughts, the more he shrunk in on himself, tucking his legs in more and hunching his shoulders, until he was as small as he could be and just wished he could disappear even more.

Salvation came in the form of distraction. The sound of footsteps, and three people entered the room at once: Eleanor, and two teenagers. The older woman had a somewhat serious expression on her face that melted away when she saw Connor, and one of the teenagers scurried ahead of her. He was short for someone his age, but didn’t lack any curiosity in his eyes.

“Is this him?” the boy asked, and without waiting for an answer, stuck out his hand, “Hi! My name’s Artyom, but everyone calls me Artie.”

Connor wiggled one of his arms free from his blanket, tentatively shaking the boy’s hand. At that, Artie smiled, and turned to the person still standing beside Eleanor.

“Come _on_ , Lawson!” he wheedled, until the person nodded and walked forward. They had hair covering their eyes, and baggy clothes. Artyom spoke for them, “This is Lawson. They’re shy, but they’re like, my best friend here, and I wanted to come meet you ‘cause Ellie said there was a new person, and I was like, ‘oh really?’, and she was like, ‘yes really’, and-”

Lawson gently nudged Artie. He shut up instantly, sheepish, “Oops. Sorry.”

Connor quietly interjected, “You’re fine. I don’t mind,” because he didn’t. He appreciated it when Hank didn’t tell him to be quiet when he was talking a lot, so he figured he should tell Artyom the same. 

Eleanor cleared her throat, having gotten her own cup of coffee during the time, “Lawson, Artie, give Connor some space. He had a long night.”

The two teenagers- mostly Artyom- made disappointed noises, but backed off. Artie grabbed Lawson’s arm with a dramatically sad expression, “Fiiine. Come’on, Loss. Let’s go bug Jayde,” and then they were hurrying off. Connor looked back over to Jeremy and Eleanor, who were staring at him like they didn’t want to scare him off. It was probably the bruises. 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Jeremy began, voice as gentle as before, “but, could you tell us how you ended up here?”

Here, as in this situation. Why were you sitting out on the sidewalk at midnight, in the pouring rain, covered in bruises and blood. Crying. Scared. And, most specifically, alone. 

Connor didn’t want to tell them. It was all… none of it made sense. They had better things to do, and they wouldn’t want to have to listen to his story. He didn’t want to tell them, but at the same time, he wanted to. He wanted someone that didn’t hate him.

“I was… kicked out,” Connor stated. He cast around for the words, like trudging through ten layers of snow, and then grasped onto a single one before shoving it away, “by my- by my family.”

He thought- he… he wasn’t sure what he’d thought. That everything would be okay now. That he’d _had_ a family. Or, well, he’d been wrong. He wondered if this had happened to any other androids, or if he was the unfortunate first.

He didn’t want to think about it. 

Eleanor looked sympathetic, as if she knew the feeling, and her voice was careful, “Did they give you these bruises?”

“No-” Connor recoiled, feeling upset at the idea, and then catching sight of the bruise on his wrist. It was a dark color now, healing fast, but it was a reminder more than anything. Connor frowned at the memory, “No, not my family. Just someone I knew.”

Jeremy and Eleanor shared a look. And, they would’ve said more, had Jeremy’s watch not buzzed. He held it up, then hissed, “Crap,” standing up from his seat. Both Eleanor and Connor looked at him curiously, but he waved them off, “I have to go pick up Jaydee’s books before the post office closes. I’ll be back soon-” and then he looked to Connor, remorseful, “Sorry to jump out on you like this, son.”

The word sent such a jolt of reminder through Connor that all he could do was nod blankly. 

“I’ll stay here with Connor,” Eleanor said, inclining her head. Jeremy was out the door then, and so Connor and Eleanor were alone. 

“Could you tell me more about who hurt you, if you’re comfortable?”... and her voice faded out, as Jeremy closed the door. Quietly, he padded out to the small parking lot outside, until he ended up at his car. It wasn’t as new as most of the cars in Detroit, but it was reliable, and that’s what mattered. Plus, he and Calvin had always loved the blue. Jeremy sat inside, started it up, quietly flipping on the radio to punk rock and then driving off. The city passed by outside the window as he went on his way, streets blurring together- pedestrians too.

Hank glanced at the blue car that drove past, and then looked away without much other thought.

“Yeah, I’m still waiting on security footage access,” Hank said into his phone, fidgeting against his spot on the wall. He pulled a face a moment later, “Markus, if I knew where he was, I wouldn’t have to call you and every other person he’s talked to _once_ \- yeah, I know… Sorry.”

It was silent for a few moments, before Hank nodded, though no one could see, “Okay. If I get anything else, I’ll call you up. Thanks for your help,” and then he hung up the phone. Silence. 

Hank’s sigh was explosive, and he ran his hands over his face, feeling the anxiety hovering just below the surface. Markus was going to search the city for Connor. But Hank wasn’t even sure if Connor was in the city anymore, or where the hell he _could_ be. Without any leads on where he could have gone, the searching was excruciatingly slow, with next to no goddamn progress. The knots in Hank’s stomach twisted some more- either fear, or the fact that he hadn’t eaten yet today. He ignored it.

There was a spare bench nearby, and without many people out, Hank wandered over to it, and then sat without much grace, nearly falling down onto the seat. He looked vacantly at the grey sky for a moment, before pulling his wallet out, flipping it open. There was a picture of Cole tucked in the back, fading. Next to it, a picture of Connor. 

“I’ve got you, son,” Hank whispered. He stared at the photo for as long as he could bear, and then, without preamble, set his face into his hands. There were no tears this time; just a long suffering, agonizing, silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You must have Ups with the Downs. That will make the tragedy all the more wrenching


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the chapter you’ve been waiting for, and Hank ain’t happy

Several hours later, Hank got a call.

_“Hank, the security footage just came in.”_

Detroit passed by the car window, blurring together like smeared ink. Hank’s grip on the car wheel intensified, habit-chewed nails imprinting the leather. The speed limit was dangerously close to being exceeded.

_“Yeah? What’d you find, Jeff?”_

_”... You’re going to want to see it in person first.”_

Hank pulled into the parking garage, filled with a sudden, and unexplainable feeling of apprehensive dread. Jeffrey had used the same tone of voice that he used when consoling civillains, when he had something to say that no one wanted to hear. Like a nurse walking into the emergency room, gripping their clipboard, calling your name with remorse and looking anywhere but your face. 

The door to the police station proper was thrown open, and Hank stormed in. He could’ve said that everyone around him seemed uncomfortable and anxious, like himself, but that would be wrong. They greeted him with sympathy, but not apprehension. That was reserved for what Hank felt, as he stood outside Fowler’s office. The lights inside were quieter. Standard procedure for bad news; brighter lights tended to make the people nervous. 

“Jeffrey,” Hank called, closing the door behind himself. The click was ominous, with the grim finality of a judge’s gavel. Jeffrey wasn’t sitting behind his desk either. Instead, he was staring at the computer screens situated on the wall to the left. The video onscreen was paused. At the sound of his name, he turned to look at Hank, and there was The Face. The, “ _Mr. Anderson, I regret to inform you that your son has…_

“Hello, Hank,” Fowler greeted. He was making a small smile, but Hank could see right through it- he knew Jeff well enough for that.

“What happened in the footage, Jeffrey?” 

Instead of answering, Fowler looked back to the screen. The Face was replaced with one of grave seriousness, which made it even worse somehow when he looked back to Hank, clearing his throat and closing the distance so that they were standing right beside one another, “Hank, I need you to stay calm while watching this, alright?”

Hank stared at him.

“What did you see?”

“Please, Hank.”

A moment of tense silence. Hank reluctantly nodded, lips pressed together, unsure what he was really agreeing to. Jeff placed a hand on Hank’s arm, momentarily reassuring, before they broke away and both stood in front of the screen. The ‘pause’ symbol might as well have been a warning sign. 

And like walking right into doom, they still pressed play. 

The first thing that appeared was Connor. And even if it was just a video, Hank felt some sense of relief, even if just for that second. Connor was sleeping at his desk- probably waiting for Hank to be done with Fowler. Fresh guilt gnawed at him. But, Hank felt a much stronger, building feeling of unease as he watched; knowing that it wouldn’t be long until something happened to Connor, waiting for the tragedy.

Gavin entered. He stood off to the side, staring at Connor, and Hank’s hands formed into fists on reflex, unhappiness burbling. And it only grew as Gavin walked to Connor. The camera was too far away for audio to be of any use, and so Hank and Fowler could only guess at what was being said, as Gavin shook Connor awake. Connor’s face changed from confusion, to slight fear.

“What the fuck is Gavin doing,” Hank hissed.

Connor sat up all the way, and then he and Gavin seemed to have a conversation. Hank realized that Gavin was wearing his outdoor jacket, like he was getting ready to go somewhere. The keys in his hand confirmed that. And then he said something that made Connor look surprised, and damnit, that kid was too trusting. Always willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt. The surprise turned into a more fearful frown, and Hank found himself leaning forward. What the fuck was Gavin saying?

Then Connor stood up.

“Why’re you standing up, Connor?” Hank whispered, “Connor-”

Connor grabbed his jacket. Tugged it on. He loved that jacket. And then he said something to Gavin, and turned towards Fowler’s office. To where Hank was. Connor made a single step forward, before Gavin’s hand shot out and yanked on his wrist. Hank jolted back.

“Gavin-” he nearly shouted, but Jeffrey was still beside him, silently steadying, and Hank forced himself to continue watching, while his gaze tinted red with anger. He could tell that Gavin wasn’t being gentle either- Connor always made that face when something hurt but he didn’t know how to say it. Gavin shouted, tugging on Connor, and there was a momentary standoff. Even though he already knew the outcome, Hank felt himself quietly begging for Connor not to go. 

“Kid, don’t…”

But Connor, ever trusting, too goddamn friendly, nodded. Then he followed after Gavin, and Hank felt his heart fissure, the cracks filling with betrayed rage. Gavin. _Gavin!_

“Jeff!” Hank snapped, “Gavin-”

“All of it, Hank.”

The footage swapped to the parking garage. Connor followed after Gavin, looking tentatively happy, either willfully or blissfully unaware. They stopped at Gavin’s car, and without any preamble, Connor sat in the backseat, and the door closed.

The car pulled out of the garage, onto the street, and Hank watched helplessly as it disappeared into the distance.

The footage clicked off, and an absolute, impenetrable silence flooded the room, like a tomb, a crypt, a funeral. Hank attempted a deep breath- once, twice, both meeting with failure, choked off halfway through. Slowly, his entire heart fell to pieces. Incomprehensible rage replaced it, contorting his expression, while sorrow and fear stung his eyes and gripped his chest in a vice. 

One, two-

The silence shattered like glass. 

“Jeffrey!” Hank roared, whipping around, completely unable to focus. The room seemed like a weird dream, airy, and Hank shouted, “He took him! Gavin took Connor! _He took him_!”

And Hank didn’t wait for a reply. He couldn’t have stood one even if he did, turning and slamming his fists on the desk so hard that he could hear a part of it crunch. Hank let out a wordless, inarticulate yell, uncaring of who heard him, funneling all of his pain and anguish into that single terrible sound, unending, breaking at the edges as tears finally made themselves known. Suddenly, Jeffrey was on him, his arms around Hank as Hank just continued to shout, incomprehensible.

“I trusted him!- I fucking- How could he- he fucking took him, he took Connor- Connor’s GONE and it was him! That son of bitch, _Jeffrey_ -!”

Hank tried to throw him off, but it was a weak effort. Instead, he allowed himself to be held like that, continuing to howl, as if the confirmation had torn his whole word into pieces and they’d scattered into the wind like ash. The rage, immovable, filling every limb and making him feel like he was on fire. And the betrayal- the betrayal!- that it had been someone he knew. Someone he had trusted? Someone _Connor_ had trusted, who was supposed to always have his back. Not some random stranger who got lucky, but Gavin- he was supposed to keep Connor safe, protect and serve, but he- took Connor away! And Connor was gone, gone, gone like a child in a surgery room that never woke up again.

Hank didn’t know how long they stood like that. Jeffrey didn’t try to say anything, no empty comforts, just being there and letting Hank buckle. Slowly, though, the air stopped being so stifling, his chest so heavy. And, eventually, he finally pettered off, no more words left in his lungs, just empty wounds and a void of sorrow. The room felt simultaneously too small and much too large. Fowler didn’t let him go until he could stand on his own.

They stared at each other. Hank felt a little lost, and there was the call for action, that vicious drive. Gavin had done this. Hank was going to make him pay, he was going to tell him what he did to Connor, and they were going to get Connor back. 

“I’m going to bring Gavin to the the main interrogation room. Can you go there?” Jeff asked. It was the kind of tone that spoke of an order, and Hank felt relief at that. Something simple that he could do.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

And with that, Jeff left. Hank took a moment, then two, to compose himself, before walking to the interrogation room.

The interrogation room was familiar to Hank. Countless suspects had been brought into here, confessing to whatever crimes. And this time, Hank was pacing on the other side of the glass, waiting for someone he had once called his colleague: Gavin Reed. 

It was a little strange. Though Hank couldn’t see him, he knew Fowler was on the opposite side of the glass, watching. Comforting in his own way. Hank turned his head to the door, as just then, Gavin was brought in. In cuffs. He didn’t look any less unhappy than usual, and for some reason, that made Hank’s blood hiss even more. The officer who brought him in- Brown- just nodded sympathetically, slightly disbelieving, as he brought Gavin to the table. A few moments, and then Officer Brown left, leaving Hank and Gavin alone. 

The tension was nearly visible. 

“...Gavin,” Hank eventually settled on. He was angry- goddamn filled with anger and so much more- but he had to keep calm. For Connor’s sake. Starting off strong wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Gavin nodded. There was some nervous part to his expression. Good. He kept glancing to the glass, as if trying to see who was on the other side. Hank grabbed Gavin’s attention back with a slap of his palm on the table.

“So!” Hank began sharply, “Are you gonna tell me what you did with Connor?”

Whoops. Looks like he lied.

“What-” Gavin started, then stopped, caging his eyes, “I didn’t do anything.”

The silence in the room felt like it was fraught with disbelief. Hank narrowed his eyes, that slow burn of rage rekindling. 

“Lying isn’t going to help you.”

“And I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything with that fucking tincan!” Gavin snapped. Hank bared his teeth.

“I saw the security footage, Gavin!” he shouted, momentarily attempting to drag his voice back down to a normal level and failing, “Christ, do you want me to believe that it was just an accident?”

Gavin narrowed his own eyes, “Oh fuck off, Lieutenant. Whatever you saw, you saw it wrong.”

The pulse of rage shot through him again, and Hank slammed his hands down on the table, “Goddamnit, Reed! I saw you take him!” and Hank gestured to something unseen, “I saw you take him out to your car, and then drive away! Don’t try and fuckin’ lie to me!”

“I’m not-” Gavin shot forward out of his chair, but not by much, and then whatever he was going to say suddenly died off as he stared at Hank’s face. Really looked at it. At the anguish, and the pain, and the incredible sorrow that mixed with rage. A devastated expression. One that Gavin would never know, but felt familiar. Hank had worn it once before. 

So Gavin stopped. And in that moment, he reconsidered. Uncertainty. Like when he had seen the fear in Connor’s eyes, heard it begging for its life. 

In a level voice, but still tinged with genuine curiosity, and no small amount of apprehension, Gavin asked, “Why do you care?”

That was the wrong thing to ask. 

Hank rounded on Gavin, tear-filled eyes a sharp contrast to the expression of undistilled rage he bore. Hair flew out of his face as he shouted, fists on the table, “Because he’s my son!” and then, nothing. Ragged breaths from Hank, and then, in a voice less loud but no less angry, “Because I’ve already lost one son, and I don’t want to lose another.”

Gavin blinked. The feeling he had been suppressing before reared its ugly head- oh, guilt. His actions now tasted bitter, oh so bitter, black coffee and nothing else. He’d told himself that he was doing Hank a favor, but… but was he really? Or had he just been telling himself that? Lying to make it okay. He hadn’t meant to hurt Hank, god damnit, he just- wanted to do something right. 

Guilt. Shame. Hank’s face was the same as however many years ago, when he came in for the first time after that car accident, and... Oh god, he’d really fucked up this time.

“Hank…” Gavin attempted. He’d fucked up, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try and fix it, right? Shit. God damnit, “I didn’t think-”

“No. You didn’t.”

Gavin tried again, putting more force into his voice, “I took him.”

Hank stared at Gavin.

“I took him. But- but I just dropped him off somewhere, that’s all! I didn’t do anything to him!”

Hank just continued to stare at Gavin. It was a deadly stare. Maybe it was the kind of thing a rabbit saw when a sniper rifle was being pointed at it.

“You took him,” Hank stated. Reaffirming. His face was deceptively calm, for the feelings that tore through him. He hadn’t listened to whatever Gavin said after, only that simple confession. So casual. Slightly apologetic, like he’d been caught sneaking dessert. Not like a kidnapper. Not like a _trafficker_ , “You sold him.”

Gavin’s eyes went wide, and he leaned back, but Hank pressed on, “You _SOLD HIM_ ,” and there was that rage from earlier, the rage that had replaced all love in his heart with pain, with agony, the complete knowledge and affirmation that he had failed Connor. That Connor was gone, and might never come back, and had probably gone thinking that Hank hated him. Connor had always been afraid of being alone- and Gavin probably knew that, didn’t he? That’s why he did this, “You sold him, and you knew!”

“What the fuck- no, wait, I didn’t sell him! Wait-” Gavin shouted, scrambling back as much as he could, because, oh god, this was it. Hank had a gun, and this was it, “I didn’t- Lieutenant, you gotta believe me, I didn’t sell him!” Oh god, this must have been what Connor felt. Like sludge pouring into his chest, and all Gavin could do was watch.

“Hank!” came a shout from outside. Fowler opened the door, but didn’t make any moves to stop Hank. Not yet, at least. He lowered his voice, placing his palms up facing forward as he cautiously began to walk, “Hank. I need you to put the gun down.”

“Why should I, Jeff?” Hank didn’t sneer, but it was a close thing, though his voice was completely level, at odds with the tears on his face, “Detective Reed just admitted to android trafficking. Of selling my son. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”

“Not like this, Hank. We’re going to deal with Gavin, but not like this,” a few more steps forward. It was agonizing, like Gavin was just waiting to die, hoping for some goddamn mercy, and that alone made his stomach flip because jesus christ, he had done this to someone. He’d done this to Connor. And ironic, that here he was now, telling the truth and dying for it.

“You should let me do it. No one would fuckin’ care- just like how they won’t care that Connor’s gone.”

“We’re going to find him, Hank,” Fowler stated, and he was only an arm’s length away, “I’m willing to believe that Gavin is telling the truth. Connor is somewhere in the city still. We’re going to find him, and bring him home. Okay?”

The gun wavered. Then, without ceremony, it was lowered. Hank didn’t spare Gavin a passing glance as he stormed out of the room, Fowler following after him, and then Gavin was alone.

Alone, with the sinking knowledge that he had fucked up. And this time, he might not be able to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with fanart! And it is HUGE
> 
> You can [ view the fanart on Tumblr ](http://maximillius.tumblr.com/post/182353332901/the-world-can-be-a-scary-thing-on-your). Drawn by my good friend Maximillius!


	8. Chapter 8

The beginnings of night had fallen over Detroit, lights flickering on one by one, the murmur of the city returning piece by piece, already awaiting the promise of dawn. In the shelter of Calvin’s Center, night was always a time of celebration. And mostly, this meant that it was time for dinner. 

Connor watched it all unfold from his spot on the sofa, eyeing the event with interest. Artyom had taken control of the kitchen and was making some kind of stew, and Tim had insisted on setting the table by himself (with Jaydee’s help), while Jeremy helped Artyom out and Eleanor was assisting Lawson with some biology homework. It was… nice, actually. It was a flurry of activity, but an organized sort of chaos, everyone with each other. When Jaydee wasn’t helping Tim, she was bickering with Artie, who would try and drag Lawson into the conversation, and then Jeremy would ask Eleanor to help with some of the seasoning (“it tastes like sand!”). It reminded Connor of dinner with Hank. 

And, Connor would’ve been content to simply sit there and observe, but as if suddenly remembering he was there, everyone rushed to make him feel included. Abruptly, Connor was helping Lawson with their homework, and having to taste test the food (“you’ve got better tastebuds than us”) and folding napkins with Tim.

Connor felt genuinely happy. Which wasn’t something he could’ve said before, but now, sitting at the slightly crowded table, it was true. He tried to imagine what it would’ve been like when the shelter was full- from what Jeremy had told him, most of the residents had fled during the revolution. The mental image of the full shelter held for a moment, before wavering appart. Had some of the people been androids, he wondered? He was too afraid to ask, so he pretended to forget about it. 

“Here comes soup!” Artie shouted, waving his arms dramatically as Eleanor exited the kitchen carrying a large soup pot. Artie still had his Dog Cops apron on- at least until Lawson stopped beside him, nudging his side. Jeremy carefully took the dish from Lawson’s hands, setting it down beside the soup. Cabbage rolls. The soup pot lid came off, and a rich smell emanated; beets, or rather, borscht. 

“He can only make these two things,” Jaydee stage-whispered to Connor. Artyom squaked in offense.

“Hey, Jaydee, com’on, I’m trying to impress Connor.”

Impress him? Connor blinked, confused, and Jaydee only laughed, kicking her feet under the table, “You try to impress everyone.”

There was the sound of a tiny hand slapping the table- not very loud, nor threatening. Tim, actually. He glared at Jaydee with all of his small and angry might, “Shhh. ‘m hungry.”

And so Jaydee shushed. Everyone took their seats, mismatched chairs, and the moment the last person had sat down, there was motion. Somehow, both more and less chaotic than before, more coordinated, dishes being passed around, plates being filled. Connor eyed the stew with curiosity, reaching for it, only to pause. Would it be rude for him to serve it himself? He turned to Jeremy.

Jeremy smiled at him, “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” misinterpreting what Connor was going to say. Connor suddenly felt torn, because he didn’t have to eat- not really- but if he didn’t, they might suspect him. He ended up shaking his head, awkward.

“You’re closer to the pot, could you?...” Connor held out his bowl. Jeremy’s eyes crinkled, like it was a familiar action, and he chuckled a small affirmative as he took the bowl, filled it with the red soup, and then handed it back. Connor automatically cataloged the smells and caught his reflection in the broth. He was smiling too. 

“Thank you,” he said, and then quietly began to eat. Oh. It was good. 

“Connor likes my food!” Artyom exclaimed, though it was more of a holler, and Jaydee kicked him under the table. 

“Shut UP.”

Artyom persisted nonetheless, “Connor! You gotta try the cabbage rolls, here,” and reached lanky limbs over to snatch up Connor’s plate, transferring one of his own cabbage rolls onto it and then sliding it back. Connor set his spoon down, and tentatively grabbed one of the cabbage rolls, taking a bite.

“It’s good,” Connor stated, because it _was_ good. Really good, in fact, but describing it wouldn’t do it justice. The flavors made him happy, warm like the stew. He smiled, and at that, Artie beamed.

“I toooold you,” Artie sang, giving Jaydee the stink-eye. 

Jaydee huffed, dyed-blond hair flying from her face, “You didn’t even make it all the way, Jay and Ellie helped.”

Lawson nodded their head in agreement, dipping some bread into their stew.

“Betrayal,” Artyom squawked, whipping his head towards Eleanor and Jeremy, “I helped, right?” While Connor helped Tim grab another roll.

Jeremy blinked, pensive for a moment, before his eyes slid to Eleanor in a silent plead. Eleanor glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but returned to her food with a slightly vindictive upturn of the lips, leaving him on his own.

“Of course you helped,” Jeremy said, but without making much eye contact, “It’s just, er… well, spices in soup sometimes are difficult and, and… well-”

“Artie,” Tim interrupted, voice almost comically solemn, and as everyone looked at him, he uttered, “It tasted like a poo.”

Silence. The tinny sound of the old television in the background. Everyone was staring at Tim- and Artyom’s eyes were wide with indignant betrayal, Eleanor and Jeremy were trying very hard not to laugh, Jaydee and Lawson were twin faces of muted- and in the former’s case, gleeful- surprise. The silence wobbled.

And then, Connor laughed.

It was a tiny sound at first. A little giggle, as he covered his mouth to try and hold it, but it slipped out through his fingers and with that first one out, the others rushed to follow. The giggle became a snort, and then louder, an actual, genuine laughter, that shook his chest as he helplessly tried to contain it. And it proved infectious too, because then, Jaydee was cackling and Lawson was snickering, and Eleanor let out a few deep chuckles that mixed with Jeremy’s wheezing sounds. After a moment, even Artyom was laughing, though with a tone of defeat. The only one not laughing was Tim, who simply continued to swing his legs under the table and eat his soup.

After a while, the laughter died down, and Connor rubbed at his eyes, a few hiccuping giggles still escaping his throat. He ran a hand through his hair as if to tidy it- then, suddenly, froze; his hood had fallen down. His now visible LED pulsed with red, his expression frozen if not for his eyes widening. Slowly, he looked up.

Everyone at the table stared at him. 

Connor felt his heart begin to race, all his limbs tensing to prepare to escape. Oh no, no, no- this couldn’t be happening, everything was finally starting to look up for him, and now- and now they’d realize he’d been lying this entire time, and they’d get rid of him. Connor could see the disappointment in Jeremy’s face, in Eleanor’s eyes, the reflection of Connor’s terrified face as the room became far too small and Connor’s chest too tight, and-

Lawson cleared their throat.

“Connor,” their voice was raspy, “We already knew.”

They- they… they already knew?

Murmurs of agreement around the table. Eleanor spoke next, and there was no steel in her voice, only compassion, “Connor, we’ve known you were an android since the night you came in. And I knew as soon as I saw you on the street outside,” there was something about her words that made Connor start to calm down, gradually deflating in his seat, and she gently pressed on, “It doesn’t change a thing. You’re safe here, okay?” 

Safe. They knew he was an android, and they didn’t care.

“You’re not the first android we’ve helped, either,” Jeremy added, his eyes flashing over to Eleanor and back to Connor just as fast, “I still mean what I said. You can stay here as long as you want, we won’t make you leave.”

And as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer, Artyom interjected, “I think you’re super cool, and I think I saw you on tv one time but I didn’t wanna bother you about it, but! You’re super super cool and,” and then a pause, the words suddenly becoming infused with solemnity, “and it doesn’t matter what people say, as long as you’re happy being you.”

“I like you just fine too,” Jaydee nodded, lightly slamming a fist down on the table, “Anyone who says otherwise is an asshole.”

Jeremy shot the girl a sharp look, but she remained unrepentant.

Connor took a moment to process all their words. That, they all knew he was an android, and they didn’t care. That he was still valuable and valid to them. That they cared. Slowly, a small smile grew on his face, and he looked back up, genuine happiness unfurling and blossoming in his chest. For the first time, he was absolutely, completely happy. Unconditionally accepted, and most of all, appreciated. 

Words didn’t cover how much that meant to him, but he could start with, “Thank you.”

 

The rest of dinner was uneventful. Food was eaten, laughs were shared, and afterwards, the dishes were cleaned up and everyone began to go to bed. Tim managed to convince Connor for a bedtime story, “about the coolest android ever, please,” and of course, that meant Jaydee had to go too, and Artie refused to let Jaydee do something cool without him, and where Artyom went, Lawson went too. That just left the two adults in the living room, sitting in pleasant sort of half darkness, the sounds of Detroit just outside the window, the television playing in the background.

“Storm’s coming,” Eleanor mentioned, glancing to the distant night sky. Jeremy looked out with her.

“Thought we just had one.”

“Same one still. It was just waiting, I think,” and then the relative silence returned to the room. _Tak tak_ , the tap of a branch against the window, like little raindrops. But louder was the tv, as whatever commercial ended, and the news resumed.

“Another round of missing androids have been reported. This time, it seems that DPD’s top android is missing- also known as RK800, Cyberlife’s former chief prototype. It is best known for its involvement in the Android Revolution. Authorities are promising a reward for its return. In other news, football star Jackson Hills has-”

Jeremy flipped the channel, a sigh.

“Do you think the kids know that Connor is _the_ Connor?” Jeremy asked, a tired smile, and Eleanor let out a quiet laugh.

“No, they’d never leave him alone.”

“They don’t even leave him alone now,” he pointed out. Eleanor just shook her head and smiled. The silence returned, comfortable, but only for a moment, slipping away like the smile slipped from her face. The quiet tap tap, branch against the window, and Eleanor sighed, stretching out her hands on her legs.

“Connor told me who hurt him.”

Jeremy nearly bowed out of his chair, but only nearly. Instead, he frowned deeply and hunched over, staring intently at Eleanor. Her lips pressed thin.

“Gavin Reed. A coworker,” Eleanor was not new to stories of abuse, and yet, they all had their own unique bitterness to them, “A cop, actually.”

Jeremy’s expression darkened, but this was not unusual news. And as he listened to the description, he nodded.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” and that was a promise. The steel in Eleanor’s expression didn’t waver, and she added.

“The bruises. His reactions. That kind of thing doesn’t come from just a one time co-worker mistreatment,” Eleanor leaned back into her chair, eyeing the window again, “Connor told me he had a family before,” and then she whispered, “Poor baby. This city ate him up and spat him out.”

The shadows outside might as well have been a hungry void, yawning out, searching for some other innocence to devour and snuff out. Jeremy let out a mirthless sound.

“Looks like he’s on the run from the cops after all,” Jeremy had a little, wry grin. Eleanor snorted. Both knew, of course, that they wouldn’t tell a soul about Connor. Not until the boy said it was ok. They both knew what it was like to have choices taken from you.

The silence was back to comfortable now, or as comfortable as it could be. There was tension in the air, like they were both waiting for the other shoe to drop, that storm brewing on the horizon. The television played on.

“Well, guess I’ll turn in for the night,” Jeremy stated, standing up and stretching. Eleanor looked at him, and he stopped, eyes locked on the tv, “Hey, El, there’s been some strange reports around the neighborhood lately.”

“Oh?”

Jeremy turned to the window, peering into the darkness, “Yeah. Of people prowling around.”

Eleanor didn’t like the sound of that, “You don’t think it’s-”

“No,” Jeremy shook his head, as though he was trying to convince himself too, “Can’t be. Just. If the kids go out, we’ll make sure an adult goes with them too.”

Eleanor nodded with him. 

“‘Night.”

“Goodnight.”

And the storm on the horizon drew ever closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm


	9. Chapter 9

Morning came, and Detroit was bathed in rain. It was a familiar kind of rain, and each droplet was filled with the promise of a storm, reaching ever closer to fruition, biding its time. And the same as always, the Detroit City Police Department was a monolith, the water running harmlessly across windows and draining down into the street. Peaceful, mostly. But, for one person, this was not a sentiment he shared with the other officers. 

“Fuck.”

Gavin Reed stood alone in his cell. Rather, he sat alone in his cell, on the provided cot tucked away in the corner. Spending the night alone in jail wasn’t on his list of things to do, but he was begrudgingly grateful they’d let him keep his normal clothes on. The jacket was a scratchy, smelly comfort. After a moment of shifting uncomfortably, Gavin abruptly stood up. The officer stationed outside the cell- Officer Brown- didn’t so much as flinch.

“Getting antsy again?” Brown needled, turning the page of his book. Gavin simply grunted.

Pace, pace, pace. The cell felt like it was way too small, and not to mention bright. Gavin coughed, unhappy, and then sighed, rubbing his hands on his eyes. Just him, alone with his thoughts, and that festering feeling of guilt that was finally burbling to the surface after however long of suppression. What a fun damn experience. 

And speaking of fun, nothing was. Not like Gavin just expected to be let go after confessing to a crime, but, well- He wanted to help look for Connor. He _knew_ where Connor was, or, where to begin looking. He knew where he’d dropped the android off at, and he’d even tried to tell that to Captain Fowler, but Fowler wouldn’t hear a word of it. Just kept staring at Gavin, feeling like that pile of growing guilt in his stomach. Gavin scratched at the stubble on his face. He wanted to try and help, damnit. Sure, he’d fucked up, but he could at least try and make it right. But, no, he was stuck here, waiting for… something to happen. 

Gavin crossed his arms, feeling the pocket in his jacket dig into his arms. Well. If he was waiting for something to happen, maybe he could try and make something happen. 

“Hey,” Gavin cleared his throat, walking to the glass divider of his cell, “Hey, Brown.”

No response. 

“Officer Brown.”

Another page turned. 

“John, hey, John.”

 _Officer_ John frowned, bending the corner of his page, closing his book, and turning to look at Gavin with a flat expression.

“Yes, Reed?” he rose an eyebrow. Gavin shifted so he was leaning.

“Come on, John, you can’t keep me in here,” Gavin huffed, and when it looked like that wasn’t getting a reaction, he added, “I’m a cop too, y’know.”

That was enough to make Officer Brown set his book under his chair- Gavin had his full attention now. For good or bad.

“Really? Because I don’t think a cop would kidnap and _sell_ one of his coworkers,” John stated, and there was a genuine undercurrent of venom in his tone. He had liked Connor. 

Gavin flinched a little, “Hey, I didn’t sell it!” but he couldn’t deny the kidnapping part. It twisted his insides fine enough, no need to worry.

“But you _kidnapped_ _him_.”

Gavin moved his grin back onto his face, letting it tick upwards until it felt as smarmy as it probably looked, and he even kicked in a little twist of his brow to sell it, “Oh…” and he let that hang in the air for a moment, weighted with condescension, “You can’t tell me you actually miss the tincan, right?”

Officer Brown’s expression went from slightly upset to greatly, in less than a second. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to wipe that grin from Gavin’s face. So, something familiar, at least. 

“Yes! Because unlike you, I have empathy for people. Jesus Christ, Gavin, I-”

Gavin shifted again, this time so that he was actively lounging against the glass, right beside the control panel for the exit, and he waved a hand, “That thing isn’t a _people_ , John, come on.”

John stood up so fast that his chair screeched against the ground, “Gavin!-”

“What’s the matter, John?” Gavin asked, drawl as he scratched his face, completely at ease, “Did I do something wrong? Come on, I just wanna talk, where are you going?”

Officer Brown let out a wordless huff of rage, before schooling his expression and calmly storming off. Just to take a little breather. That left Gavin alone again, no one else in the hall, no other prisoners in any of the cells. The expression dropped from his face like it had been held up by duct tape and determination, and a new one replaced it: guilt. But he didn’t have time to feel bad. Instead, he quickly grabbed the jail cell keycard from his inner coat pocket- thank fuck no one had searched him- and swiped it on the door. A quiet beep of confirmation, and then he was out.

One moment to savor the feeling of (possibly temporary) freedom. Then, Gavin spun on his heel, and half walked half ran down the hall, towards the parking garage. As he rounded the corner, the door was in sight-

And then he nearly ran right into a passing officer. They both exchanged eye contact in what felt like slow motion. Gavin had a face of chagrin, and the officer had an expression of pure surprise. It would’ve been funny, in any other context, and it passed as Gavin ran out the door. A beat of sputtering silence from the officer. 

“What the fuck- Gavin’s out! Gavin escaped! Someone, get over here!” 

Gavin slammed the door shut behind himself. Shit. _Shit._ If he wasn’t in trouble before, he sure as shit was now. No time to think about that, though, as instead, Gavin sprinted through the garage, running until he made it to his car. The keys were right where he left them, accidentally locked inside. Yesterday, he’d been groaning about how he’d get them out, but now he didn’t even pause as he broke the window. The alarm was a shattering sound, reverberating across the space, making Gavin cringe as he closed the door behind himself and started up the car. 

“-him! There he is!”

In the rear view mirror, Gavin could see some officers flooding out of the main building. A few of them had guns, and, shit. Gavin didn’t spare a moment more to look at them as he shifted his car into drive, full power on the gas, and barreling forwards. The gate was open, and judging by the startled expression of the officer in the booth, not for much longer.

“Close the gate! Close the fucking gate!”

Gavin burst outside just as the gate closed behind him. The rain flew in through his new permanently opened window, and for once, he relished it. He was out. But his smile quickly turned to a determined scowl, as he drove rapidly down the street, heading towards that empty sector of Detroit. 

“Alright, Connor, you’d better fucking appreciate what I’m doing for you,” Gavin grumbled. Who knew how many laws he’d already broken? (Hint: Gavin knew. It was a lot.) The landscape blurred beside him, and he grappled with the mental map of where exactly he’d dropped Connor off before. God, he could barely remember that night, and the parts that he did remember just made him feel kind of sick. It was somewhere in the abandoned part of Detroit, was all he could recount.

And so, soon his fast pace slowed to something normal, and then to a crawl, as his car puttered down the empty streets and stared desperately at the rain-shrouded alleys. No one was out, despite it being the middle of the day. Things were really bad here. Or maybe no one in their right mind wanted to be outside in the rain.

Gavin peered down some random alley, then sighed, rubbing some rain from his face. It was cold, too, and yet, all Gavin could think about was that night. So maybe he was lying when he said he couldn’t remember much. God, he wished he _couldn’t_ , but the memories kept pushing themselves forward. Like-

_The fuckin’ android was begging for its life. Literally begging, and jesus christ, it was crying too, sounding just like a scared kid. He hated the fuckin’ sound- that thing had no right sounding so human, and alive! It was just some fucking machine, this was supposed to be easy, and then Hank would be back to normal, and- fuck!_

Gavin’s mouth twisted downwards. Yep. A real fun memory. Mostly, he just remembered Connor’s terrified face. No matter how hard he tried, Gavin couldn’t get it out of his head. He hadn’t been able to sleep that night because of it. Just, so fuckin’ scared, bruised and red from crying, drenched with rain, his eyes begging for life. Made it hard to deny he was alive, since no fuckin’ machine could fake that kind of rawness. Gavin had tried, at least, but here he was, breaking laws to try and make things right. It was all he could do.

“Ah fuck,” Gavin abruptly yanked the wheel to the side, pulling into an alley. Nearly missed it. And yeah, it looked about the same as every other alley in this city, but Gavin could remember it now that he saw it. His car rumbled to a stop, and after a moment, he stepped out, grabbing the gun and uselessly locking the door behind himself. Felt familiar, too, in the way that a stomach ache felt familiar maybe. Gavin tilted his head to the side.

What… what even was he looking for? What, like a random sign that pointed, “I’m here!” or something? And, where had Connor even gone? ...There was always the possibility that, something _had_ happened to him after all. But Gavin didn’t want to think about that. In fact, he purposely shoved that thought from his mind, burying it. 

“Guess I’ll have to try and look for him on foot,” Gavin popped his collar against the wind and rain, looking down the other end of the alley. Connor couldn’t have gotten far. 

And so Gavin Reed walked out the other end of the alley, in that last direction he had seen Connor running off to, into the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally happening 
> 
> Next chapter is one of my favorite chapters. I’ll give you a hint: it’s the kinda chapter that’ll make you lose your voice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got carpal tunnel because I wrote 8k words in one sitting. Remember kids, don’t

It was, oddly enough, _sunny_ in Detroit. Odd, because it had been raining only an hour earlier. The rare snatch of sunshine seemed to invigorate the air, shining into shadows and burning away dust. Connor even found himself staring out the window, taking it in.

It seemed peaceful. There was a part of his mind that added, _deceptively peaceful_ , but it was ignored. He was happy for once. Everyone had accepted him, even as an android, and it was… nice. The sunshine warmed his face.

Connor wasn’t the only one enjoying the sunshine, either.

“-lease? I wanna go to the park,” Tim whined. He waved his fists around and frowned, upset with all of his tiny might, “Please? Please?”

Meanwhile, Jaydee was doing her best to placate him.

“Tim, buddy- it’s gonna rain pretty soon. See?” Jaydee pointed to the window. It didn’t help that it was sunny outside, and Tim didn’t seem very impressed. He made sure Jaydee knew that too.

“Sunny.”

Jaydee made a strangled noise, “There’s clouds! Connor, back me up; it’s gonna rain, right?” 

Connor blinked, and in a moment he had gathered all the data about the weather that he could find. Technically, she was correct: the forecast called for a storm later. But no single forecast could agree exactly when it was going to happen. The most likely prediction seemed to be in one hour and fifty three minutes. 

Connor looked between Jaydee and Tim.

“It will be raining in two hours,” he affirmed, and not even a second after he had said that, Tim’s face lit up.

“Park time.”

That… wasn’t what Connor had meant. Jaydee looked at him with betrayal. And then Tim ran out of the room, likely to go flag down Eleanor or Jeremy, and so Jaydee quickly followed after him.

“Wait, Tim-“

Feeling vaguely guilty, Connor followed after.

In the living room, Tim stared up at Eleanor, his cheeks puffed out and, oddly, tinted blue. Eleanor, meanwhile, seemed to be staring right back. At the sound of Jaydee and Connor entering, she turned to them, a slight smile on her face.

“Tim just ran in here, shouting something about going to the park. I don’t suppose one of you had anything to do with it?” 

Before Connor could even open his mouth to apologize, Jaydee sprang into action, pointing directly at him, “Connor said he’d come with us!”

Connor blinked.

“Oh?” Eleanor looked like she wanted to laugh, “Did he now?”

Connor began to correct the lie, but… stopped. He looked down at Tim, who was silently pleading. And Jaydee, who was not so silently pleading. Finally, back to Eleanor, who was busy working on something, and likely wouldn’t have the time to accompany Tim to the park. So, instead, Connor found himself nodding.

“I- I did.”

Eleanor smiled, her cheeks dimpling with amusement, “Well, alright,” and she looked to the door, “Jeremy is at the store right now, so don’t go too far,” and then she turned back to Jaydee and Tim, “and make sure you come back before it starts to rain.”

Tim nodded vigorously, “Yeah!” and then ran to grab his jacket, already tugging Jaydee along as he babbled about something or another. Connor moved to follow them, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He glanced over to Eleanor, and her face was etched with seriousness, steel in her eyes.

“Connor,” her voice wasn’t a whisper, but it was close. She glanced to make sure Jaydee and Tim weren’t listening in, “There’s been reports of people prowling around after dark. Keep an eye out for me, okay? Come running right back here if there’s any trouble.”

Reports of people prowling around. Connor felt an odd pit in his stomach, but he nodded, filing the information away for later. 

“I’ll, keep them safe,” Connor promised. Eleanor squeezed his shoulder once, then let go, a small smile. 

“Con, c’mere,” Tim called, and that was Connor’s time to go. He smiled sheepishly, as Jaydee heckled him and he put on his shoes and jackets, then stepped out the door. 

The park wasn’t more than fifteen minutes away, only three blocks of distance, and the entire time, Tim chattered away. He giggled at things he found on the ground, he pointed out buildings, he chased away flocks of pigeons with a holler. Jaydee was much the same, as she complained about the temperature, chased after Tim, and cracked jokes at Connor. It made Connor feel like the most responsible adult in the room, for once. Like an older sibling who had been dragged along on an adventure. The feeling warmed his heart, and he smiled, just in time for the park to come into sight. 

“The park!” Tim announced with a roar, and then bounded right for it, swinging his arms around with glee. It wasn’t a particularly large park, but it was large enough for Tim. He charged at the jungle gym with a bloodlust. Meanwhile, Connor and Jaydee just watched.

“... _I_ wanna play on the jungle gym,” Jaydee muttered fiercely after a moment, and then she charged in too, tugging her braid into a ponytail as she ran. Connor was fine with just watching actually. The single bench in the park soon found Connor it’s sole occupant, as he plopped down to keep an eye on the two. His LED thrummed calmly, and his gaze danced languidly around, the sun making him feel warm and contented. 

It seemed peaceful.

But the call of rain on the horizon was filled with the promise of storm. 

The sound of a car, only a third of a mile away. Connor’s attention snapped over to the end of the street, and without thinking about it, he slowly pulled up his hood, as he stared at some spot only he could see. His mind buzzed with uncertainty. It was just a car, there wasn’t any reason for him to suddenly be on edge, but Eleanor’s words were still bouncing around his head, and so Connor straightened his shoulders and waited, unsure what he was waiting for. 

The car came closer. Connor heard it stop, just around the corner, and he held his nonexistent breath. Four doors opened and closed. Five pairs of footsteps- five individuals... walking towards the park. Connor narrowed his eyes.

“Jaydee,” Connor began, but what should he say? He floundered for a moment, “I- could you and Tim come here for a second?”

After all, it could just be nothing. But Connor felt on edge, and so he held that caution close to his heart. Jaydee looked at him for a moment, following his eyes down the street, before something in her face became hard and she looked away. 

“Tim, c’mere,” Jaydee tugged Tim away from the monkey bars. Connor kept watching. The five individuals came into view; five men. Stockier builds, nondescript clothes. One of them had baseballs bats. Two held knives. One had a crowbar. And there was a gun, partially hidden in a pocket. Connor’s pulse picked up, and he stood up from the bench, as Jaydee and Tim finally came over. Jaydee looked less like a teenage girl and more like a young soldier, clutching Tim close and making herself rigid. 

“I think we should head back home,” Connor stated, already moving away to leave the park. Jaydee’s hand gripped his elbow as she followed along. But Connor’s mistake was not noticing the men sooner- he should have left sooner- because they certainly noticed him. And they weren’t going to let the three leave.

“There! I found it!” one of the men shouted, the one with the gun. Connor scanned his face-

And froze.

Small eyes pushed together, thin and compacted nose, face drawn inwards in an angry expression, mouth further down, wide chin and hair the color of oil. 

His name was Jorge Smith, said the police database. It was him. It was… it was the culprit from the Ryuoko-Valerie case. The kidnapper. Connor felt a terrifying clarity grip his chest, like the world was suddenly thrown into sharp focus. His throat seized. Fear flooded him, memories of the case, memories that he had viewed from Ryuoko’s eyes and all the terror that came with it. Before he realized it, Connor had backed away, pushing Jaydee and Tim behind himself to protect and shield them. He wished, desperately and fleetingly, that he had his gun.

“Stay behind me.”

“...Jaydee, ‘m scared,” Tim whispered, and his only comfort was being quieted by an equally fearful Jaydee.

“Josh- there’s three of them,” the thug with the crowbar hissed. Josh, the one with the bat, tilted his head. 

“Huh.”

The five of them were in the park by then, blocking off the exits. Almost all of them, at least. If Connor could make a distraction, then Jaydee and Tim could get away. That was the only thing that mattered. He’d promised Eleanor he’d keep them safe. 

“Elijah, Truck!” Jorge shouted, and the one with the crowbar and one with the knife, they both snapped to attention. Connor quickly scanned the faces of the entire group. Joshua Gecko, the one with the bat, recently arrested for breaking and entering, a long string of arrests. Elijah, with the crowbar, just turned seventeen, arrested once for shoplifting. Truck Miller and Mag Miller were brothers and all their transgressions were android related. And Jorge Smith had a small little tag applied to this profile: suspected trafficker. 

“Yeah?” “Huh?”

“Grab the android.”

Connor bristled, but he didn’t move from defending the children, and he most certainly didn’t show any fear. But, as the two advanced forwards, Connor noticed something: they weren’t focusing on Connor, they were looking at Tim. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Connor asked, putting his skills as a hostage negotiator to use. Criminals loved to talk, and when they talked, they’d be distracted, and the information could be used against them by the police. Connor mentally preconstructed both an escape route, and his form of attack if needed.

Truck and Elijah stopped prowling forward, Truck blinking in confusion and Elijah looking somewhat uncomfortable. Jorge sighed something unpleasant, and Josh elbowed him. 

“You don’t have to make this difficult. We just want the android,” Jorge stated, crossing his arms and conveniently displaying the gun in his belt.

Tim sniffled and shuddered.

“What do you mean?” Connor pressed. He already knew the answer, but for now, playing dumb was a good tactic. Throw them off guard. Buy some time. And Mag pipped up from the back, gesturing with his knife.

“The little one, it’s a fuckin’ android!” 

Unseen, Connor’s LED pulsed with red. Jaydee pressed closer to Connor, and Tim started to cry. The sound was desperately smothered by Jaydee, and Connor could feel the fear roiling off both of them. This wasn’t a position anyone should ever have been in, but especially not children. It reminded Connor of his first hostage situation, of the roof. The girl had been terrified- just like Jaydee and Tim were now. 

“You seem like a reasonable guy. We’re all reasonable here,” Josh leaned on his bat, almost lazily, “Do you want a cut of the profit? We’ll give you something nice. Just walk away, that’s all you gotta do.”

Jaydee’s head snapped over to them, with a feral intensity, “You- motherfuckers! Leave us- leave us alone!” 

And that was when the situation solidified with Connor. That this wasn’t just some normal mugging, or some thugs shaking them down. This was a kidnapping. These people- they wanted to take Tim away. They wanted to _sell_ Tim. A child. Traffickers, for profit and for fun.

“Listen here, you little _shit_ ,” Jorge hissed, scowling and stomping towards them, “No one’s gonna miss him, and no one’s gonna stop us.”

Then, a blur of motion. Truck lunged for Tim, and Jaydee shoved Tim away, and Jorge pulled out his gun, and-

Connor blocked the knife with his arm. And in his other hand, the gun, which he crushed in his fist with a squeeze. The pieces fell to the ground, next to the thirium that had dripped from his arm. With the movement, the hood had fallen back from his head, his snarl fully visible.

“I’ll stop you.”

The two assailants stared directly at Connor, absolute surprise and shock, while the others did much of the same. And that was as good a distraction of any, right? With a shove, Jaydee and Tim were already heading for the exit.

“Run! Go get Eleanor!” Connor’s voice commanded, and Jaydee sprung like a trigger, grabbing Tim in her arms in one motion and then breaking into a full sprint. A light rain had begun to fall from the sky. Tim continued to sob and wail, loud, and two of the men moved to pursue them, only to be stopped by the barking order of Josh.

“No! Stay here, you idiots, look at this one!”

And so Jaydee and Tim ran out of sight, unfollowed, and Connor felt at least half of his fear fade. It was quickly replaced by fresh apprehension at the situation he found himself in. But he had taken on just as many opponents before- he’d be fine. It would be fine. Jorge and Connor held eye contact.

“I know this android…” Josh began, and his group murmured, “This is that fuckin’- the one from tv! That revolution android-“

“Connor!” Mag remembered, almost violently. And just like that, so did everyone else. 

“-oughta be worth a lot, right?”

“-police android though? I-“

“-dangerous?”

“I recognize you from the news programs too,” Jorge smiled. It was not a nice smile, and it made Connor feel like a gazelle being sized up by a lion, “You’ve been declared _missing_ ,” in a voice of saccharine-soaked sweetness, bitter with sardonicism at the seams, “Ain’t nobody gonna miss you twice.”

Every single nightmare he’d had came rushing to the surface at those words. They were going to try and kidnap him, just like those other androids. They were going to sell him, and send him away, somewhere he’d never see the light of day again. _There_ was the spike of terror, the whirring of his LED in red, the slight tremble to his balled fists. There was no backup for this fight, it was just Connor against them. If he failed, it was over. Distinctly, Connor found himself wishing Hank was here, and just as quickly that feeling was shoved away. Instead, he sized up his opponents.

“You’ll have to get me first,” Connor settled on. A promise to follow up a promise. And Jorge only readied his fists, as the others readied their weapons. 

“I know I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when I said this one would take your breath away? This chapter was so large originally that I had to break it into two chapters. So the next chapter is the one I was cryptically referring to (｡•̀ᴗ-)
> 
> Anyway. I was giggling the entire time I named Truck. Love you Truck. Truck’s faceclaim is Truck Shepard


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here. Warnings for depictions of violence up ahead- not graphic enough, I'd say, to warrant a special tag, considering some of the violence observed in game. But enough that I'm warning you. Cheers!

Everything became motion. 

Connor had been preconstructing the fight, and so his advantage was obvious, as he moved first. But less moved and more flew, less than a flicker over his expression as he rushed forward. Truck was closest. Connor ducked down slightly, grabbing Truck’s wrist and yanking him forward, and as Truck stumbled, Connor kicked a leg outwards into his shin. Stunned, Truck was nearly doubled over, and then Connor rotated to the side with the arm he still held and twisted until it was nearly backwards. In one fluid motion, a snap; the knife fell, the arm broken. Truck barely had time to scream.

“F-”

Connor threw Truck against the ground, then bounced upwards, dodging the crowbar from the left. Elijah swung again, his face twisted.

“Son of a bi-”

Connor feigned to the left, then sprang to the right, delivering a punch to Elijah’s torso then a jab up his midsection. As Elijah doubled over, Connor slammed into his face with a headbutt, and then pushed him back. Just in time, as from behind him, appeared Mag, knife brandished. To the right of Connor, Josh.

“Truck!” Mag roared, his attacks fueled by a blind rage. He missed once, twice, but then Josh hollered and brought his bat down, and Connor was forced to duck to the side, giving Mag the chance for a hit. The knife stabbed into Connor’s torso, but he jumped back just as quick, rapidly verifying that it hadn’t hit anything major and then going on the defensive. There was a tree behind him, and he vaulted for it, just as the bat whizzed by and slammed into the bark. But Jorge was rushing forward now, barely giving Connor time to think of a plan. Down he dropped, sliding forward across the dirt, the movement sending Jorge off balance and letting Connor sweep his legs out from under him. 

While Jorge was temporarily incapacitated, Mag took the chance to sprint and plunge the knife at Connor, who barely dodged backwards. Mag, empowered by his first hit on Connor, kept slashing the knife forward, forcing Connor to take his eyes off the rest of the attackers to keep dodging. A mistake. 

“I got it!” Truck declared. Somehow, he’d found the will to get back up. Despite his broken arm, he still held his knife, and he pounced on Connor with an expression of pain and vengeance. The knife slashed across Connor’s back as he attempted to dodge- the cut was superficial, but Connor panicked and shoved him off, and reacted on instinct to Mag trying to jump him as well, grabbing Mag’s arms and throwing him over his back, onto the ground. A swift motion, as Connor stomped on the arm socket, wrenched it upwards, and shattered the wrist, taking the knife and- 

Truck rushed from behind. Instinctively, Connor turned, deflected, and- stabbed. Right into his neck. The younger of the brothers stared in confusion, then horror, scrambling to grab the knife in his throat but it was too late. All he could do was gurgle and then, stumble to the left, the right, and finally, to the ground, park soil stained red.

Behind him, Mag screamed.

“Truck! Truck!” it was a scream of anguish, and then, unspeakable rage. Connor turned, and was stopped by a knife to the chest. This time, the knife hit deep, stabbed directly into his artificial stomach and ripping out viciously. Connor stutter-stepped, but Mag didn’t move to pursue. Instead, he fell to the ground and held his hands to Truck’s wound, trying to hold it closed. Connor felt a strange guilt curdle in his throat, but he reminded himself that these were dangerous criminals, and the feelings were strangled into silence. Just like always. 

“Josh, Elijah! Stop fucking around and _get that thing!_ ” Jorge roared, hand held to his side and struggling to stand. Connor’s attention snapped back, and he saw Josh charging straight towards him. Blunt weapons. Easy enough, injuries notwithstanding. Josh was within swinging distance, and Connor ran towards him, closing the distance and making the strike miss and instead hit the air behind him. He struck under Josh’s armpit, and with the motion, weaved out the open space of his side and wheeled around until his elbow jab connected with the side of Josh’s throat. Connor swung for a kick, too, only to be stopped by a punch slamming into his side- and he stumbled, blearily catching sight of Jorge coming in for another. 

The dodge to the right didn’t work. Elijah was there, and the crowbar just barely missed Connor. But maybe that was the point, as Jorge threw him to the ground, and as Connor rolled to dodge a punch- crack. The sound of the bat slamming into Connor’s jaw, shattering some of the casing. Connor scrambled backwards and held the side of his face, as bits of the white material dropped to the ground to be crunched underfoot. The skin overlay at that point glitched and fizzled, and all Connor could do was bite his cheek and frantically get back up. Jorge, Josh, and Elijah circled him like dogs, and Mag was still seated in the background, shaking. 

Connor’s mind raced with how to proceed. Taking out Jorge should be the priority. Elijah and Mag were expendable, but from what he’d seen, Josh was important to Jorge. If he could do something like…

Connor attacked first, catching them off guard. He punched Elijah in the stomach, then whirled to the right, missing the strike from Jorge. And as Josh swung his bat again, Connor stuck both his arms out and blocked it. Then, with a quick spin, he twisted the bat and Josh’s arms, until the bat was released, and Connor butted the end into Josh’s face. Connor abruptly swung the bat around and slammed it into the side of Jorge’s head, sending him sprawling to the ground with Elijah, and before Josh could try and go for Connor’s throat, Connor ducked down, then jumped back up, now behind the man.

There was a fleck of blue blood on the ground that hadn’t come from Connor.

“I’m sorry,” Connor stated, and then punched directly into the sensitive wires near Josh’s spinal cord, digging his hands into the metal and then tearing them out with a disturbing crackle. Without motor control, Josh fell to the ground, and he was helpless to stop Connor from slamming a hand into the thirium pump regular and twisting until there was the sound of a belated metal crunch. When Connor wrenched his hand back, it was stained blue, and Josh was dead. Jorge looked shocked. Jorge looked appalled. Jorge looked like he was going to murder Connor with his bare hands. 

But Connor should’ve been paying more attention to Mag. 

Before Connor could even react or realize, Mag had taken a crowbar in his hands, come up behind Connor, and rammed it into the back of Connor’s right knee. Just like that, Connor was falling to the ground, and then-

Mag grabbed his arm. He held it away from Connor’s body, and then rotated it backwards, just in time for Connor to fall directly on the shoulder. There was a sickening, wet sounding electronic pop, as the arm dislocated entirely. The blood vessels around the area ruptured too, making the injury glow phosphorescent, electric blue. Connor screamed without noise. Mag smiled without life or joy.

“Like a fucking glowstick, huh?”

The crowbar came down again- Connor tried to block it with his working arm, but Mag just brought it back down once more, slamming the metal into one of Connor’s ribs. There was a muffled crunch, and Connor’s diagnostic systems screamed at the newly broken rib. But it wasn’t over yet. Connor swung his legs out, kicking Mag away, and tried to scramble back to safety. But then there was Jorge, eyes cold as any winter, empty as the raindrops that fell from the rapidly darkening sky. He had Josh’s bat in his hand. 

And he brought it down onto Connor’s leg so hard the wood almost splintered. If Connor could feel pain, he would have been screaming, but all he did was let out a smothered sound of fear. The bone in the leg was broken. Connor couldn’t get away. He couldn’t run away. He was trapped.

Jorge brought the bat down again. And again. Connor didn’t beg, but he did raise his arm up and try to shield himself, uselessly trying to crawl backwards. He didn’t beg, but a part of him wanted to. Ironically, it was Elijah that spoke up.

“-orge! Jorge!” and he grabbed Jorge’s arm, yanking it to make him stop, “St- stop it, man. The thing can’t even fight back! Let’s just take it and go.”

Jorge stared at the younger. Really stared. Jorge had a splatter of blue blood on his chest, and also on his hands, and without warning, he shoved Elijah off himself so hard, Elijah fell to the ground. He looked surprised, then frightened, as Jorge planted a foot on his chest and leaned down. 

“You don’t get to question me. Got it?” Jorge asked, his voice impeccably cold. Elijah nodded, suddenly uncertain, and then Jorge backed and returned to look at Connor, “Androids can take a beating. So, we’re gonna kick your ass till you beg for mercy,” and to punctuate his point, he sent the bat crashing into Connor’s side, “and then, we’re gonna send you somewhere no one will ever find you.”

Elijah had gotten to his feet again, and he was wearing an expression of disturbance, eclipsed by clouds, like he wanted to run away but something was making him stay. The bat flew towards Connor again, and this time, he managed to grab it, struggling to hold it away from himself with a strained expression. Jorge titled his head, then dropped the bat with a smile. Connor suddenly felt a bolt of terror at the expression, like storm clouds raging overhead. 

Jorge didn’t even say a word. He just stared Connor directly in the eyes. Without warning or word, he lunged for the android. Connor tried to throw him off, but Jorge just planted his legs either side of Connor and then, grabbed for his chest. For- 

For the thirium pump regulator-

“No- no!” Connor grappled with him, screaming, trying to push Jorge away, fear painted across his face. His systems protested as he used his dislocated arm, tried to kick with his broken leg, but none of it mattered, as Jorge dug his hands under the fabric of Connor’s shirt and into the casing of the regulator. Connor thrashed and fought and begged-

And then the thirium pump regulator was pulled out. And Connor went still. His eyes were blown wide with terror, and his voice seemed to disappear, everything except the pounding of his heart and the incomprehensible fear in his expression. Jorge glanced at the device he held in his hands, and then wore a smile of glee, as he dangled the pump right in front of Connor’s face. 

“Ha.”

Then he curled his fist around the pump, and threw it far to the side, letting it tumble discarded into the rain. And with that, he stood up, stepping away from Connor with a deeply pleased look. Connor’s hands grasped blindly at the regulator site, trying to apply pressure, do something, as his systems blared-

[Shutdown in Four Minutes]

He was scared. He was scared he was scared he was scared. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want this. He’d failed- and now it was all over. Everything was- everything was for nothing. He was going to be alone, forever, and then he’d die. He was scared and he was scared and he didn’t want to die. Tears pricked Connor’s eyes, as he tried to roll to a prone position, gaze darting desperately around.

In his desperation, and his resignation, Connor dialed a phone number- one he knew by heart- and it picked up after only the first ring. Hank’s voice was loud and clear.

“Connor?!” Hank sounded scared, which didn’t make much sense, “Connor! Connor, w-”

Connor’s voice, in comparison, was distinctly quiet, wobbly, “Hank.”

Hank went silent. Connor closed his eyes and cleared his throat, feeling the rain on his face drip to the ground. Connor wanted to tell Hank a lot of things- he wanted Hank to come and find him. That he knew he was hated but he was sorry. That he missed him. That he was either about to die here, or he might as well become dead. That he missed Sumo and wanted to go home. But, the tears were leaking into his voice, and so all Connor could do was shakily inhale, and say...

“Dad. I’m sorry, I-“

And there was no blaze of glory. Just Mag’s hand suddenly cinching around Connor’s face, like a noose, yanking it back until his throat was exposed. Elijah gave a shocked and startled cry. Connor didn’t even have time to finish his sentence, before the knife slashed across his throat and stole his voice away. The voice box crackled and fizzled with static, and all Connor could do was make a pained hissing, gurgling noise, the forensic solution from his mouth dripping onto the ground, mixing with the blood. Connor frantically held his hands to his throat, and just as abruptly, ended the call with Hank. 

He didn’t want Hank to hear him die. 

As Connor was thrown back down, he caught himself on his elbow, one hand still on his throat. His vision started to shake, staring at the blood that dribbled down, the emotionless reminder of [Shutdown in Three Minutes]. His legs, tucked to his side, and in the distance he could still see the faint glow of the thirium pump regulator. In a futile effort, Connor reached his dislocated arm out, digging into the wet dirt to try and pull himself towards it- but only managed to shift a few inches in the ground, before he fell down entirely, eyes still staring at the regulator, mouth hung open, little tattered scraps of static escaping.

“You know,” Mag said, crouched down, watching Connor, “It reminds me of that other android we have in the warehouse. They look the same.”

“Come on, Mag, grab the stupid fuckin’ pump regulator. We need to haul this thing off,” Jorge drawled. There was the muted sound of movement, and Connor strained his dying audio receptors to try and pick out what was happening.

“This… this isn’t right,” Elijah whispered, then, he started moving forward, his voice picking up strength, “You guys told me- this isn’t what you said!” Elijah gestured wide, “You said we’d be getting back at them, but this isn’t what I wanted! This is just- torture porn! What the fuck?!”

“Elijah!” Jorge snapped, “Shut the fuck up! You agreed to join us, so either you listen, or you’ll end up like this piece of scrap!”

[Shutdown in Two Minutes]

“No- no, _fuck you_!” Elijah swept an arm out, glaring at Mag’s warning call of his name, “Is this why you joined, huh?!” Elijah’s face was streaked with rain, mud, and angry tears, “First it's androids, and then you get bored and it's android _kids_ , and now-” Elijah gestured helplessly to Connor.

“And now _what?_ What are you trying to say?” Mag ground the sentence out between clenched teeth, and Elijah balled his fists together, his voice seering from his throat like he’d been keeping the words bottled up for too long. 

“He's _alive!_ ” 

The shout ended, seemed to shake the park, bounced around the buildings and the empty city. And, distantly, Connor could hear the sound of footsteps sprinting through the rain. Elijah must have heard it too, because then he was jumping up, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Over here!" Elijah shouted, as Jorge screamed at him to shut up, and Mag moved forward with his knife, but Elijah just kept shouting, "Help! We need help!"

[Shutdown in One Minute]

“What the fuck-” and the footsteps picked up, faster, and it was… it was Gavin’s voice- Gavin’s voice? Gavin? Connor managed to move his head to the side, just in time to see Gavin run into the entrance of the park; confusion, then shock, then terrified rage. 

[Shutdown in 45 Seconds]

“Oh Jesus Fucking Christ- _Connor!_ ” Gavin screamed the words, and then an instant, and he’d pulled out his gun, pointed it directly at Jorge, “This is the police! Put your fucking hands up!”

Jorge and Mag did not put their hands up. Both, simultaneously, made a break for it, while Elijah just stood there, hands up. Gavin took aim at the one closest, and fired, putting a bullet directly in Mag’s chest. And Mag fell to the ground with a muffled noise, and the thirium pump regulator fell out of his hands too. Several more shots rang out, as Gavin fired uselessly at the retreating Jorge. Elijah shouted something, “Get back here you motherfucker!” And then ran after Jorge himself, into the rain. Gavin stared at them, and then his attention snapped to Connor. 

[Shutdown in 30 Seconds]

“Connor!” Gavin shouted, dropping his gun and running over to the android. There was blood all over the ground, and at least of half of it was Connor’s own. Gavin’s hands flew to Connor’s chest, then neck, the thirium staining his hands and fear filling his eyes, “Shit- shit, fucking, fucking shit oh fuck. Hang on, you’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be ok-”

[Shutdown in 15 Seconds]

Connor tried to open his throat to speak, tell Gavin, but all that came out was static and silence. Gavin looked back down at Connor’s chest, then suddenly, to the regulator on the ground. Recognition sparked in his eyes and he lunged for the pump, grabbing it, and without losing even a second he shoved it back into the regulator site. And not a second too soon. The shutdown warning didn’t disappear, but it was enough.

[Shutdown in Ten Minutes]

Through the haze of rain, Connor stared at Gavin. Gavin’s hands were pressed against Connor’s throat, and he was still speaking, still trying to comfort and reassure and apologize.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I fucked up, I didn’t want this to happen- Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please, don’t die here. Don’t fucking die here, you hear me?”

Connor didn’t even understand what was happening. He wanted his dad, he wanted Sumo, he wanted the rain to go away and he just… he wanted to go home. He was tired of being lost.

And he was scared.

In a voice stolen by static, Connor mouthed the words, “I/don’t want- to die.”

Why did it look like Gavin was crying.

Someone was shouting, beyond the park. It was a warm but strict voice, and it was familiar to Connor. Eleanor’s voice-

“You get the fuck away from him!” Eleanor commanded, and she was standing over Gavin, a gun in one hand and a medical kit in the other. Gavin’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t back down, didn’t even remove his hands from holding Connor’s wound. 

“Like hell I will-”

Connor closed his eyes, his chest hitching from a breath he didn’t need to take, and he pressed outwards, his voice torn to tatters by static but just barely audible, “-stop.”

Eleanor and Gavin stared at him, and a moment of mutual agreement passed between them.

“I’m not done with you. But. Connor comes first,” Eleanor hissed. She dropped to the ground with her medical kit, and beneath the mutter of rain, began to bark orders.

“Hold his throat here- like that. Connor, stay awake, keep your eyes open, Connor-”

Connor closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with fanart! 
> 
> And even more amazing fanart! 
> 
>  
> 
> You can [ view the first fanart on Tumblr ](https://maesonry.tumblr.com/post/182275952804/a-little-something-for-a-story-im-writing-lost).
> 
> The second fanart is on Twitter [ viewable here! ](https://mobile.twitter.com/thegracyplayer/status/1176153340058750981/photo/1)
> 
>  
> 
> And RIP Truck. You lived as you died: greasy
> 
> I guess you could say... this chapter really did take your voice away, huh


	12. Chapter 12

There was a storm in Detroit. The rain rattled and pounded against the streets, washing away blood both red and blue, mixing with tears and misting off the ground. Eleanor was hunched over Connor, hands steady from years of training as she opened the emergency medical kit. Gavin, meanwhile, had his hands deeply entrenched in blood, and he was panicking. The rain was muffled by the tree above them. 

“Oh god- Jesus fucking Christ-” Gavin’s hands were still clamped down firmly on Connor’s throat wound, and there was blood slipping out between his fingers, but it was as good as it could be for the moment. Gruesome and gory but- and Eleanor glanced at Connor’s red LED- at least Connor was still alive. 

“Keep holding his throat,” Eleanor commanded, “Keep an eye on his LED,” and she didn’t waste time waiting for Gavin to respond as she quickly scanned Connor. His thirium pump regulator was slightly damaged, but functioning. That was the most important thing. Eleanor returned to Connor’s throat, where Gavin had started shaking, hands gone pale. There was another injury, one on Connor’s jaw, but it seemed superficial and so it was ignored for the moment.

“Are you- you’re a fucking doctor?” Gavin quickly looked at Eleanor, but then returned to staring at Connor just as fast. One look and he could disappear. Gavin had already lost him once, “You can fix this, right?” 

Eleanor pressed her own hands to the side of Connor’s neck, “Yes. My name is Eleanor,” she quickly catalogued an injury map, rattling off a rapid fire diagnosis, “Neither of the main arteries were severed. Looks like his voice processor blocked most of it. Move your hands,” and as Gavin hesitantly complied, Eleanor was on the site with an almost luminous surgical suture thread and an oddly shaped needle. Gavin opened his mouth to voice his confusion, _he’s made of metal, how are you going to stitch-_ and just as quickly it was silenced, as Eleanor dug the needle directly into the metal and- to an untrained eye, it might as well have been magic. The needle provided a superheating current to the thread, and as Eleanor expertly wove it through the metal of Connor’s throat, the thread pulled and cauterized the metal, and held the wound closed. 

“Holy shit.”

Eleanor didn’t even look at Gavin as she tied the end off, “These are only temporary. I-” Eleanor grabbed Connor’s arm, and then swore, “ _Goddamnit_. He’s lost too much blood- Gavin, take the gauze and wrap it around the slash on Connor’s arm.”

Gavin could read the undercurrent of fear in her voice, as he scrambled to take out the gauze from the red medical kit. It- it would be fine, he could do this, Connor would be fine. Gavin wrapped the gauze around the jagged slash with shaking hands, pulling it tight, and once he was certain it was secured, the thought entered his mind- how had Eleanor known his name?- and he looked up to her, one hand still on Connor’s arm.

“What do we do? We don’t have any android blood-” Gavin stuttered, voice caught between uncertain determination, only to stop at the end. Eleanor had a tube coming out of her arm, slowly filling bag of blue blood in the hand, another line leading directly into one of Connor’s blood vessels. Gavin stared.

She- what? Wait-

“You’re an android?” and Gavin winced at the accusatory tone in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. Eleanor took a deep breath, then looked at Gavin, and her face was unbridled with judgement, in her eyes and the set of her mouth. She wanted nothing more than to let herself be angry, but this wasn’t the time, and it wasn’t the place. Without a word, Eleanor turned back to Connor to take the IV line out, and Gavin just felt even more conflicted than before, guilt mingling with a frown.

“Broken left leg, broken rib, bruising from stab wounds in the torso… we need to set his shoulder before we go,” and then Eleanor was moving to Connor’s side, one hand on his right arm. Connor’s LED still thrummed with red, a mixed blessing. Eleanor rested a hand on the dislocated shoulder, careful “Otherwise, the muscles will start spasming. Think you can handle watching this, _officer?_ ”

Gavin bit back a retort, and only nodded with slightly gritted teeth. He’d started gripping Connor’s hand, as if that would help anything, mentally whispering a mantra of _I’m sorry, it’ll be okay, I’m sorry, you’ll be alright-_

Eleanor worked with a quickness that spoke of practice and practicality. She stepped back slightly, planting one foot down, and then placed the other foot into the pit of Connor’s arm. With both hands she held onto Connor’s arm, pulling outward, and Gavin didn’t even want to think about how painful that would have to be for a human, as she carefully pulled and rotated the arm until, after several tense seconds, there was a distinct _clunk_ as the shoulder was set. Gavin released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, but he couldn’t help the discomfort in his eyes as he looked at the wound site, the ruptured blood vessels around the shoulder, cracked and still glowing slightly. 

“We need to get him back to the shelter,” Eleanor leaned down to Connor, glancing at Gavin, “It’s about ten minutes from here if we hurry.”

A shelter? Was that where Connor had been staying? 

“Alright. I can help carry him,” Gavin nodded, and Eleanor directed where to pick Connor up at, where to distribute his weight. Connor was deceptively light, like he weighed almost nothing, like the wind could take him away if they weren’t careful, there and gone in an instant. Eleanor held Connor’s legs under her arms, walking forwards, while Gavin had his hands under Connor’s arms. He remembered learning about this, vaguely. Standard in the military. The rain around them had let up, but only by a fraction, and as Eleanor and Gavin ran in unison, it landed in sheets on them and Connor. Gavin told himself he was shivering from the cold, and not fearful uncertainty, as they left the park, the bodies of the attackers left for later. 

“You said there was a shelter,” Gavin attempted, making an effort to be polite, voice falling in between the sound of rain. Eleanor’s head shifted, but Gavin couldn’t see her expression.

“There is,” Eleanor stated. Silence for a moment, before she begrudgingly added, “Calvin’s Center.”

There had been more than a few calls to Calvin’s Center, before the revolution. Something about suspicious activity, possible deviant android(s). Gavin concentrated on the memory, and then, almost as an afterthought, remembered that Hank had always been the one to go investigate. And he’d always said there was nothing to be seen. Gavin opened his mouth, then closed it, feeling something fall into place but not knowing what.

“Are you- you’re a combat medic android, right?” Gavin asked. 

Eleanor didn’t respond, but he didn’t need her to say ‘yes’ to know that it was the correct guess. So Gavin closed his mouth, and wondered what to say. The rain made the world seem grey and empty, intersected by the occasional tree, or sputter streetlight, the sound of their hurried footfalls as they ran against the clock to save Connor. Gavin’s lips went thin with unease.

“I’m sorry,” that seemed like a good place to start. Sorry that we hunted you down during the Revolution, but we can move past that now, its in the past, “We didn’t, I didn’t-”

“I’m not your friend, detective,” Eleanor interrupted, “and I won’t take any useless apologies. Save those for the dead.”

Memories of fire and blood sprung to mind, and to Eleanor, all she could remember were the screams and the fear. This man, _Gavin_ , he couldn’t even begin to understand what his people had done. He’d never know the little android boy whose parents were murdered trying to protect him, or the smell of those _recycling centers_ , the unseen blue blood that still lingered on the streets.

At the very least, that shut Gavin up. But not for long. No, because at that moment, Connor’s LED flickered, just for a second, and then Connor slowly opened his eyes.

“Eleanor,” Gavin’s eyes went wide, “Eleanor, fuck, he’s waking up.”

That caused Eleanor to jolt, and then she quickened her already rapid pace, forcing Gavin to keep up. This wasn’t good, then. But Connor was opening his mouth, as if he was trying to speak, but nothing came from it. Static, silence. The sutures on his throat were pulled with the motion of agitation.

“Connor,” Gavin’s voice was strained and forcefully soft, catching Connor’s attention, and then Connor’s eyes were on him and Gavin felt everything he’d been holding in for the past week burble to the surface, “Connor, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry-”

“Gavin! Don’t agitate him!” Eleanor snapped, but Gavin wasn’t really listening. He just continued on, because _he had to get this out_. 

“I lied to you Connor,” and the words felt bitter and black, a caustic truth, “I fucking- I lied to you. Hank loves you, Hank never asked me to hurt you, it was all me- and I’m so sorry, Connor, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

Connor’s eyes were blown wide. He kept trying ot open his mouth to talk, more frantic now, and even worse, he was struggling in their hold, reopening his wounds, straining broken bones and torn muscle fibers, and Gavin was still going, still apologizing as if that would stop anything. Eleanor’s voice was cold steel.

“Gavin Reed, _shut the hell up!_ ”

Gavin stopped rambling. But Connor was still agitated, lost and confused and wounded with revelation, with anger that couldn’t go anyway, depths of pointless sorrow. All of it, muddled, smothered by the storm. Eleanor touched a hand to Connor’s leg, the skin disappearing to reveal white, and then she was murmuring something soothing and quiet. Practiced, settle a patient. And it worked, as slowly, with resistance, Connor stopped struggling, and eventually he let his eyes drop closed again. His red LED still lit up in the mist. 

And even though they were only a minute from the shelter, Eleanor couldn’t hold it in for any longer.

“You only think of yourself,” Eleanor didn’t shout, but it was a near thing, “You don’t apologize because you did wrong, you apologize because you feel bad, and you apologize because you want him to forgive you so that nasty little guilt will go away. You _aren’t_ sorry, detective.”

“I- _yes I am_ -”

“You only think of what you need. I don’t even think you understand the difference.”

And then, there was no more room left for words, as Calvin’s Center appeared around the corner, as comforting as it was home. Eleanor smothered her rage for a different time, while the words she said stewed with Gavin, dropping the bottom of his stomach out as he tried to deny what she’d said. But he couldn’t. 

The door to the shelter opened, and without even wasting a second, they were inside. They didn’t have any time to waste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half actual medical research, half “it’s the Future ™”
> 
> Sorry this took so long, I was dragging my feet with this. Two unreliable narrators pitted against each other in a transition chapter. Difficult to write 
> 
> We’re nearing the end now lads. Next chapter I kick the plot back into ‘go’ and after that it goes into ‘very fast’. Gavin’s Redemption is nearly complete


	13. Chapter 13

The door to the shelter was thrown open, and Jeremy tensed for a moment, before he recognized Eleanor as she rushed in. His tentative relief became grim as he noticed who she carried with her: Connor. And certainly, it wasn’t helped when he saw who they they brought with them- that police officer, Gavin Reed. Jeremy paused for a moment, torn before reacting and waiting, and he went with his gut and simply gave Eleanor a meaningful nod.

“Kids, stay in the living room,” Jeremy stated, as he hurried forward.

Eleanor was grateful.

“Jeremy, clear the table!” she commanded, and Jeremy was quick to comply, sweeping everything off the surface and onto the ground to make space. Eleanor set Connor down right after, laying him flat, and she hadn’t even opened her mouth to bark for the medical supplies when Lawson appeared, shoving a medical cart forward, tugging an IV pole behind them.

“Lawson-” but Eleanor only sighed, decisively, before pressing past whatever she was going to say, “Okay. Get the gel mesh out, hold his shoulder,” and then Eleanor snapped her head over to where Jeremy was still standing, with Gavin beside him, and jerked her head to the side. Jeremy got the message, grabbing Gavin’s arm, and leading him out of the room.

“Hey, wait-” Gavin attempted, but he was simply dragged into the living room. His arm was let go a moment later, but Jeremy glared at him fiercely. The air was tense. Gavin noticed that there were three other people in the room- kids? One didn’t look anymore than six years old, Jesus Christ. 

“What the fuck,” and, whoops. He’d spoken that out loud. The girl that was holding the kid glared at him, angry and wary, but it was the other teen that spoke. If the girl’s face was angry, this kid’s face was rage, getting red at the edges as he stood up

“I hate you!”

Jeremy stuck an arm out to stop the boy, but it was ducked under and ignored, just like the warning call of, “Artyom!”

“This is all your fault!” Artyom voice cracked as he shouted, “It’s all your fault!”

“Artyom!” Jeremy hooked his arms under the teen and pulled him back, but Artyom just thrashed and struggled, his face contorted with agonized rage and tears. Gavin just stood there, his chest filled with a creeping cold, and something jolted him to respond.

“I didn’t do this!” Gavin’s voice was half convincing, if he didn’t sound like he was almost pleading. Artyom just stared at him, eyes heavy with the weight of things seen.

“Yes you did,” and then a strike to Gavin’s heart, with a tone of absolute certainty, “I heard Eleanor and Jeremy talking. You hurt Connor before, and now he’s hurt again, and it’s all because of you!”

Sometime during the shouting match, Tim had started crying, and as Gavin turned to look at him he started to sob louder, headless of the cries of, “Tim, no- he’s not going to take you away-”

The word’s in Gavin’s throat died off. He- he was scaring a kid. A child so terrified that Gavin was going to take him away that he was screaming. Just like that, Gavin’s anger dissipated, the tension in the air still remaining. 

“Artie. Take Jaydee and Tim and go to the kitchen,” Jeremy’s voice was flat. Artyom glared for a moment, before stepping back to Jaydee and Tim, whispering something as they all walked away. That left Jeremy and Gavin, alone in the living room. The rain thrashed against the window. The silence in the room was the worst part. 

“...We found Connor during a storm like this,” Jeremy stated, looking at Gavin from the corner of his eye. His back was rigid with military posture, but it was drooping with the weight of fatigue, “Did you know he was terrified?”

Gavin wished he didn’t. 

“It took us a while to get him to tell us what had happened,” and Jeremy finally turned to Gavin, and there wasn’t anger, there wasn’t rage, just quiet judgement, “He told us about you. He tried to defend you.”

And that made Gavin flinch.

“I-” Gavin’s throat felt dry, awkward, “I saved his life. And I apologized.”

Jeremy’s face twitched. He loomed, but only for a moment, before stopping himself and trying to force the heat from his words. It didn’t really work,“You’re the reason he almost died. Do you even think about what would have happened if _someone else_ had found him instead of us? Do you even understand what you could have done?”

“Yes!” Gavin suddenly rounded on him, some fire igniting in his chest, “I was terrified that- that I fucking killed him! That he could have gotten hurt, or, I-”

Jeremy’s voice was heavy with despair, black and bleak, “Do you know what those men you chased off were going to do?”

No. 

“They would have sold him,” each word was a dagger in Gavin’s heart, “They might have cut out the parts they wanted first. Eyes. Limbs,” Gavin wanted to be sick, “They would’ve kept him alive, though. For the rest of his life, his body wouldn’t have been his own. And Androids can live for a very long time.”

Gavin stumbled back, as if he’d been shot, and something was stinging in his throat. His voice sounded very small.

“I didn’t- I didn’t-”

No words came out. He simply slumped down against the sofa, staring at the ground, the rain making _tak taks_ against the window. Guilt twisted with regret. He hadn’t wanted this to happen. He’d just wanted this to return to normal- what a stupid reason. And now that he was trying to fix it, wasn’t that what he was trying to do still? Just bring everything back to how it was, like this had never happened? Was that even any better?

_”You’re not sorry for the right reasons”_ whispered the memory of Eleanor. And… she was right. He wasn’t. He was sorry, and he was still sorry, but now, he realized what she’d meant, no matter how angry she’d been. Apologizing didn’t really mean anything, when he didn’t really understand. 

And so, Gavin quietly promised himself that he would make it up to Connor. That he would do everything he could to make things right. 

“I’m sorry.”

Jeremy sat down beside Gavin. 

“I know.”

Both were silent, just the rain their companions. Jeremy didn’t try to tell Gavin that it would be okay, because it might not be. But he didn’t try and attack Gavin. Gavin wasn’t a bad person, but he wasn’t a good person. Jeremy knew that Gavin was… he was trying. That he’d get there, eventually. He just needed some sense knocked into him, and some time.

And so they sat. 

There was a knock on the front door. Jeremy shot up, already halfway there, gun ready; if it was the men from before, he would be prepared, and he wouldn’t let them hurt his family. But what he saw made him stop.

“Hank?” 

It was Hank Anderson. There was rain on his face and, not tears, but close, and he looked desperate and terrified and determined, all at once. Jeremy hadn’t seen him or Jeff for months.

“J-Jeremy,” the sound was a statement and a question, and Jeremy stepped back, letting his old friend in. They both stood there a moment, before Jeremy rushed forward, hugging the man. Hank hugged back.

“Where’s Jeff?” Jeremy asked, quick as he stepped back, “Is something wrong? Is he-”

“He’s fine. I- it’s the android I told you about before. His name is Connor- I managed to track his last call, he’s missing, but he’s somewhere around here and,” Hank inhaled, but Jeremy’s face cut him off.

Because Jeremy had connected the two. How- how hadn’t he realized that the partner Hank had mentioned, months ago, was Connor? Fowler had mentioned it too. Jeremy just, hadn’t even thought about it. Why would he have thought about it? But that didn’t matter right now. Instead, he jerked his head to the left, the dining room, and Hank blinked before he pressed towards it.

His voice shattered the tentative silence.

“Oh god- Connor!” Hank’s voice was anguish. It was like glass, falling to the ground, regret and anger and sorrow all together as he took in the sight of his son. Of his son, covered in blood, stab wounds and stitches in his neck and, and his eyes weren’t open, was he dead? Hank snatched up Connor’s hand, squeezing it, frozen in fear and in memories just like this one, Cole in a hospital bed and just as lifeless and, it was all Hank’s fault, “ _No._ ”

“He’s alive,” Eleanor stated, voice tentatively comforting as she looked up. Her hands were covered in blue blood as she prepared a scalpel. Lawson was changing the IV bag, and Hank stared at Eleanor like he was lost, so she continued, “He. He’s conscious. He’s not in any pain, but I’m going to have to put him under so I don’t damage his thirium pump,” she checked some point on Connor’s arm, “You have one minute and ten seconds.”

Hank leaned in, his breath frozen, but he couldn’t lose this chance. He squeezed Connor’s hand again, “Connor. Connor, I’m here. It’s Hank. I’m here, son.”

Painstakingly slow, Connor’s eyes opened. He looked around for a moment, before settling on Hank, and he smiled. A little small, but genuine, and it made Hank’s eyes sting. Connor opened his mouth to speak.

But nothing came out. A trickle of static. Connor’s smile slipped, and he tried again, more static, and then Eleanor’s hand was at Hank’s back.

“I’m sorry Hank, but I need to put him under now.”

Hank wanted to refuse. This was his son, he had to protect him, he needed Connor to know that he loved him. That he was sorry.

But he nodded, and pulled back. He wouldn’t risk Connor’s life just for that. But just as he pulled back, a fleeting voice finally forced words from Connor’s mouth.

“-ove you, dad-”

Eleanor looked remorseful as she activated the sedative, and Connor’s eyes closed. Hank’s mouth was open slightly, frozen, and then he closed his own eyes and inhaled sharply to stop the tears before they came. Instead, he set Connor’s hand down and said, “Love you too, son.”

Jeremy was silent as he guided Hank out of the room. They stood in the hall, not saying anything, just standing. Calvin had always been better at comforting people. Jeremy frowned, turning his head to the living room.

“Come and sit down. You can wait while Eleanor does the surgery,” and Hank nodded at that, as they moved towards the living room, but then Jeremy stopped, “I- there’s one of your detectives in here too.”

That was all the warning Hank got as he suddenly came face to face with Gavin. At least Gavin looked as surprised and emotionally torn as Hank did. Not enough to stop Hank from suddenly feeling angry again.

“ _Gavin_ ”

But Gavin just looked… tired. And a new expression Hank had never seen before, remorse. Shame. Regret. 

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Any rage that had formed was gone just as quick at that tone of acceptance, and Hank knew just how tired he was too. Instead, he just nodded once at Gavin, and then sat down opposite him. Jeremy lingered in the doorway, before going to the kitchen to the kids. Gavin and Hank sat there.

The silence remained.

“Connor was. Attacked by the kidnappers from the Ryuoko-Valerie case,” Gavin eventually said, cautiously looking over to Hank, “We can probably ID the bodies and try and track them.”

Hank frowned, but nodded, “I’ll, contact Fowler,” the unsaid, _after Connor_.

And back to silence. Gavin didn’t want to try and apologize, and Hank was just too tired to try and deal with Gavin. So they both just sat in that silence, not entirely comfortable, but not uncomfortable either. Just existing. 

Until there was another knock on the front door.

Just like before, Jeremy cautiously peered out, then answered. But he answered with confusion, and no amount of concern. The door opened, and there in the rain stood… Elijah.

Gavin, who could see the door, quickly stood up. 

“Who are you?” Jeremy asked, but he was broadsided by Gavin appearing. And Gavin stared, mouth open, eyes slightly narrowed. 

“It’s you. You’re that kid that… chased after the kidnapper earlier.”

Jeremy looked between them, before the connection was made, and he slowly raised his hand to his pistol, ready to protect his family. Elijah shot his hands up.

“H-hey, wait, don’t shoot!” Elijah pleaded, “I’m here to help you guys! I can, I can help!”

Jeremy did stop, but his face was still guarded and cautious as he allowed Elijah to enter. Gavin frowned. The kid- really, a teen, didn’t look any older than seventeen. He was completely soaked from running in the rain, and looked just as uncomfortable, anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

“What’s your name?” Gavin asked.

“Elijah,” but then Elijah shifted and caught sight of Connor, splayed across the table, and cringed, “You- you’re a cop, right? You can help him?”

Now it was Jeremy’s turn to soften, “We’re doing what we can. Why don’t you take off your coat and talk to the detective.”

Elijah was grateful to shrug off his wet jacket, hanging it up and then awkwardly shuffling to the living room, trying and failing to be subtle as he peered back to Connor and looked indescribably guilty. At the sight of Elijah entering, Hank rose an eyebrow, and Elijah did a half wave.

“Hello, sir,” Elijah looked his age, gangly and awkward, taking a seat. Gavin and Hank shared a look, and Elijah fidgeted. The rain was getting lighter, in increments, and Elijah spoke, “I… I can tell you about Jorge. The, the kidnapper.”

Instantly, Hank’s body language shifted, trying for gentle and concerned, not harsh or haggard. It worked, mostly, but he couldn’t cover up how anxious he was, “Tell us everything that you can.”

“Jorge, he was the one in charge of the… kidnapping. It was just him, until he got the other guys, and then me,” Elijah wrung his hands together, “Truck, Mag, Josh. They died… they sucked, though, so that’s okay. It’s just Jorge now,” and Elijah looked up sharply, face torn, “He ran back to his warehouse- you guys have to stop him. That’s where he’s keeping all the androids!”

“Slow down,” Gavin calmed him, “Okay. What warehouse?”

“It’s on the east side, by the river. It’s… there’s two. They’re both abandoned Cyberlife warehouses. I don’t know which one he’s keeping the androids in- ‘cause only just joined, I never got to see them, just heard him talking to Josh.”

“The androids are still here?” 

Elijah nodded, though his voice was quiet, “But not for much longer. We, we were supposed to ship them out tonight,” and Elijah finally stopped reigning in his voice, looking up desperately, “I. I know that you don’t have any reason to trust me, but please, you have to help them! I didn’t think it would be like this…”

And then Elijah went silent. Gavin paused too. He could hear himself in those words, the regret, _I didn’t think it would be like this_. Was it risky, to trust this random kid? For sure. Even more so when this was the same kid who’d been working with the kidnappers, not even a few hours earlier. But, everyone deserved a second chance.

So Gavin sighed and said, “I think we should trust him.”

Hank smiled, and it was slightly rueful smile, “Sounds like a horrible idea to me,” and before Gavin could protest, he added, “But, I think you’re right. I’ll go talk to Jeremy,” as he stood up and looked to Elijah, “You’re going to stay here while we investigate the place. If we find out this is some kind of trap…”

Elijah just nodded.

Hank left the room, and then it was just Gavin and Elijah. In the other room, Eleanor and Lawson were fighting to save Connor’s life. In the kitchen, Jaydee was playing some kind of game with Tim, and Artyom was pacing. The rain made muffled noise against the window, Detroit sprawling out in the haze, and Gavin just stared. He felt like he should try and talk to Elijah. Or apologize. Or, anything.

But nothing really felt right. Everyone had their reasons, but Gavin wondered what could have made Elijah join up with kidnappers. He looked too young, but Gavin was once too. Young and scared and dumb.

“I’m sorry,” Elijah eventually said, looking awkward. He was poking at the torn part of his jeans, not looking at Gavin. He probably blamed himself.

“It’s fine, we’re… we’re gonna make things right.”

And if he couldn’t, then he’d at least do his goddamn best. 

Elijah gave a small smile. And then Hank came in, saying they were good to go. As Gavin walked out, he called back to Elijah, “Stay out of trouble, kid.”

Gavin stood by Hank in the hall, both looking in at Connor, as Eleanor operated inside his chest, Lawson scurrying around with tools. They lingered for a moment, before both stepped outside into the rain of Detroit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artyom is young and angry, which makes him fun to have shouting. He’s an unreliable narrator in a half and he’s my whole mood
> 
> But! Nearly at the end now. The RK900 tag will become relevant, and certain readers have already picked out the hints. Any loose ends you see here will be dealt with in the epilogue, don’t worry.
> 
> As always, I love seeing all your comments! I don’t reply to many because I’m just a mess but I do see them all and appreciate them. 
> 
> Now with fanart of Elijah! 
> 
> You can [ view the artist on Tumblr!! I love Ace so much](https://blank-ace.tumblr.com).


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s new fanart for chapter 13! Go and check it out.

Detroit was bathed in rain. Through the fogged window of the car, Gavin Reed watched it pass by, each building the same as the last, the very beginnings of sunset starting to take hold. Gavin glanced over to Hank, then back to the outside. He couldn’t tell for certain, but they were getting close now. The buildings were spacing out, becoming more nondescript, replaced by warehouses and shattered streetlights. The two Cyberlife warehouses couldn’t be far. Gavin wondered if the entire east end was as abandoned as this.

The rain made muffled _taks_ against the metal of the car, and Gavin frowned without meaning too. Hank shifted a little, one hand on the wheel.

“Seems like it’s been raining all week,” Hank scratched his arm, voice muttering, and he was right. Rain and then a storm. It had been raining that first day too. 

He just really wanted the rain to be over with. He was tired of it.

The car ride continued, in relative silence, as Gavin wondered how he could even begin apologizing, and Hank wondering just how much he could trust Gavin. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, but like back at the shelter, it wasn’t exactly entirely uncomfortable. Both were tied up with worry for Connor, and so were their words. 

It was Hank who broke the silence again, the sky a few shades darker, the rain lighter.

“Gavin, look,” his voice a begrudging sigh, “You’re the reason we’re in this mess. But,” and Hank’s eyes flicked to the side momentarily, “Jeremy told me you saved Connor from the kidnappers.”

Gavin blinked in uncomfortable surprise at the acknowledgement.

“Yeah.”

Hank grumbled something, and then louder, “I’m still pissed at you for doing this in the first place, but- right now, we’re gonna find these androids and we’re gonna stop this guy.”

A tentative extension of trust. Gavin nodded, tapped his hand on his leg a few times as he chewed on his lip, before he decided to try and follow up with something as well.

“Lieutenant Anderson, for what it’s worth, I… really am sorry.”

There. He’d said it. And it was a start, no matter how long it would take. As the car slowed to a stop, Hank looked over at Gavin with an unreadable expression. 

“Yeah, I know,” and then the car was put in park, and Hank’s face twisted with a slight smile, “Now get outta my car.”

Hey, at least there hadn’t been another shouting match. Gavin would work with that. The rain had gotten light enough to only be an annoyance, as Gavin stepped out of the car and examined his surroundings. One of the warehouses Elijah mentioned stood right in front of him, grey in the rain and surrounded by flickering, uncertain lighting, the sky still stuck in that tentative twilight of light and dark. The other warehouse wasn’t too far away, standing out just as innocuously in a sea of nearly identical buildings. Gavin admitted to himself that this would be the last place he’d have thought to look. That’s what the kidnappers were probably counting on, too. It was a little weird that it was a Cyberlife warehouse, though, but that didn’t matter right now. Instead, Gavin gave Hank a wave to go ahead, and then turned back to the warehouse, the quiet hum of the car driving away echoing in the industrial graveyard. Right now, he had to look for a way in. 

Using the front door wouldn’t be a good idea, so Gavin jogged around the side, craning his neck to look at the truck bay doors. None were open The side door was locked too, and Gavin cursed once, “Fuck,” and looked up in aggravation. 

And then he caught sight of the ladder that led up to the roof, and an idea formed. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Gavin hurried over to the ladder, slick with rain. He gripped the first rung, took a deep breath to steel himself, and then began to climb. One step. Two. Gavin’s grip was white-knuckled, and he absolutely didn’t look down. The lights that still worked were casting small, sharp shadows across the side of the building, and the rain pelted down on the metal. Loud enough to mask Gavin’s startled noise as he nearly slipped- fuck!- and caught himself at the last second, and then he was hauling himself up the last rung, onto the roof of the building, his chest burning for a dizzying second as he looked up and caught his breath. With the way the rain was misting off the roof, Gavin had to shield his eyes, squinting to try and see where the roof access would be. Because- it would have one, right?

Or maybe it wouldn’t. Of course it wouldn’t. Gavin squeezed his eyes shut, wondering just how stupid he could be, until he reopened them and grinned slightly: there were windows on the roof, and it looked like one of them was about to be open. 

Carefully, Gavin went over to the closest window and peered inside. Through the darkness and the water rushing down the window panes, it _looked_ like an office. So he was willing to take his chances. Gavin gripped the edge of the window- making sure to be careful, because he really didn’t want anyone to hear glass shattering if he fucked this up- and began to pull and push at varying intervals. With some pattern only he could discern, the window pane was slowly dislodged from its casing, until the only thing holding it up was the one side still in the casing, and Gavin’s hands. He smiled viciously as he pulled one final time, yanking it out, and only just barely keeping a grip on it as the rain poured over everything. It was a good thing the windows here were light. 

With the window pane left on the roof, Gavin could finally get this show moving. 

“Here we go,” Gavin grunted, the sound lost to the rain, as he leaned down into the opening and _dropped_. It felt like only seconds, or less than that, and then Gavin landed with an _oof_ , taking the landing in a roll to absorb the impact. A beat, two, as he stood up with an breath, looking around. 

And the first thing he noticed was the smell.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Gavin kept his voice whisper quiet, but couldn’t help it, covering his mouth with his shirt for all the good that did. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it was weak, at least. So he resolved to ignore it, and just investigate the room. 

Gavin’s eyes scanned around, and he saw that, actually, there were a few lights on inside. One single desk lamp was still working, and through the cracks of the door, he could see that most of the lights in the hall were on as well. It was still dark, though- and getting darker, as sunset slipped down the horizon- so Gavin fumbled with something in his coat until he pulled out his police flashlight, clipping it to his pocket and flicking it on. The light flooded the room. The dust particles were thick, drifting around the room, like it hadn’t been disturbed since the last time the workers were here. Probably months. Gavin walked over to a desk, just to check, and yeah, there were some documents right there. Nothing useful, except for the Cyberlife header at the top. 

“Figures.”

With nothing else to look at in the document room, Gavin decided to take his chances in the hall. He was cautious as he pushed the door open- steady, just in case it was going to make noise or there was something stacked by the other side. And there was nothing. Nothing, except that _smell_. It slammed into Gavin, and he squinted his eyes, covered his mouth with his hand and looked around. The lights here didn’t flicker- they just glowed, a quiet buzz in the background the only sign that the bulbs were straining. But the hairs on the back of Gavin’s neck were standing on end, and he was on edge, unconsciously straining for sounds, or anything. Something he couldn’t hear or see. There was nothing.

Gavin inhaled as deeply as he could stomach, turned towards what the signs said was the direction of the stairs, and then-

That smell. It was blood.

Gavin recoiled sharply, because oh, jesus christ- and it wasn’t human blood. This blood smelled more metallic, a cold edge, chemicals and sterile together. The same smell that covered Connor earlier, and dead or dying androids before: thirium. Blue blood.

There wasn’t even any hesitation as Gavin turned towards the direction of the smell, and followed. It was somewhere down this hall. With each step, the smell got stronger, and every bone in his body was telling him to run, some kind of danger sense that was beginning to go haywire. He kept straining his ears for a sound he couldn’t hear, eyes stuck between wide and narrowed, breaths coming in quiet but rapid bursts, controlled panic. It couldn’t have been more than a minute of walking before Gavin stopped, right in front of a room as nondescript as the rest, the smell so strong that it had to be coming from here. 

He reached out. Stopped halfway. Then finally, his hand connected with the handle, and he was pulling the door open, letting it swing open on its own as he kept back. The lights of the hallway seeped into the darkness of the room, and the smell curdled outwards, cloying and terrible and Gavin had to hold in nausea. He couldn’t see what was inside. So he flicked his flashlight back on, and stepped forward.

And he really wished he fucking hadn’t. 

“Oh jesus fucking fuck-” Gavin snapped his jaw shut, so hard his teeth ached, just to stop from babbling. Or screaming. Because- because there was an android in the center of the room. An android, covered in blood, part of his leg missing, and a hand gone, and in the darkness Gavin could see that his LED was red. That the fucking android was still awake and alive, despite all that had happened to them. Gavin took another stuttering step forward, but the android didn’t move- or couldn’t, judging by the restraints, fuck- and he carefully moved the flashlight to shine on the android’s face-

And it was Connor.

Gavin blinked. And then he felt his eyes water on reflex, panic coiling around his entire body and screaming. This was a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. But it was- Connor was strapped to the table, with a grey eye missing, with parts missing, because they were working on taking out the good parts and- fuck. Jeremy’s words bounced around Gavin’s skull, “They would have sold him. They might have cut out the parts they wanted first. Eyes. Limbs. They would’ve kept him alive, though. For the rest of his life, his body wouldn’t have been his own. And Androids can live for a very long time.”

This wasn’t- this wasn’t Connor, but didn’t they make multiples of each android? It might as well have been Connor. It would have been Connor, if the Gavin of a week ago had gotten his way, and that made him sick again, and Gavin just rushed up to the android without hesitating, words tangling on his tongue.

“Hey- hey, it’s alright now, we’re gonna get you out, I’m with the police, you’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay,” and Gavin was rambling again, as he struggled to break the bonds holding the android- Connor- down, and he held in his curses as he fumbled out the utility knife he carried and just cut through the straps. The LED flashed with red again, because he was awake god damnit, they’d kept him awake as they sawed off parts, and Gavin just kept talking, “Can you tell me your name? A designation? Anything?”

There was nothing. Gavin worried, for a horrible moment, that they’d done something even worse to this android, but then-

Then he spoke. And his voice was so, so quiet, but it didn’t stutter or sound weak. It was just nearly silent, as he spoke in the darkness. 

“My designation is RK900.”

And that was all he said. But it was enough, and for Gavin something suddenly clicked. Because- oh, because of course he looked like Connor. Connor’s serial number was RK800. He must’ve been- he must’ve been the next model in the line. Before everything went wrong. 

But why was he here?

A terrible feeling settled in Gavin’s gut as he thought about that, but he couldn’t waste time trying to figure out what this all meant. He wasn’t certain how long they even had, before the person behind all this might decide to check up on RK900. And Gavin knew he couldn’t just leave the android here, either. 

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Gavin promised, and then he extended his arms to RK900, careful, “I’m gonna have to pick you up, though, if that’s okay Nines.”

He didn’t answer, and Gavin wasn’t sure where the nickname came from, but Gavin just pressed on. With extreme care, Gavin slid his arms under the android, making sure not to jostle him too much, and then he moved and shifted RK900 around until he was safely on Gavin’s back, his arms draped over Gavin’s shoulders, and Gavin’s hands holding his legs. If they encountered any trouble, Gavin wouldn’t really be able to fight back. But that wasn’t part of his plan, anyway, so he’d just have to make sure they didn’t find any trouble to begin with at all. Right now, Gavin had to focus on finding the missing androids. 

If he was lucky, Hank would be the one to find them, and Gavin wouldn’t encounter any trouble. 

Down the hall Gavin went. RK900 was as light as Connor, like he would disappear if Gavin let go, and Gavin felt that terrible feeling grip his heart again as he tried- and failed- to push the thought from his mind, the wonder of why and how RK900 ended up here. So, instead, Gavin focused on the walk down the hall, of eerily echoing footfalls and the now anxiety-inducing buzz of the dying lights above. His breaths were deep and uncertain, the beam of the flashlight bouncing up and down with each step. And- worryingly, the smell was still there. Not just from Nines, but from somewhere else. And it was almost… rusty. Deeper. 

“Okay, hold on,” and Gavin was still whispering comforting things, unable to really stop himself when they came out, “We’re going down the stairs now.”

Each step echoed with a strange finality, in the enclosed space, only one light above with the shadows of fading paint on the concrete, and Gavin found himself holding his breath, when suddenly, for a reason he couldn’t tell, RK900 tensed.

So Gavin stopped, held in his curse, and listened. 

There were sounds. Sounds, he hadn’t noticed before. Nearly silent, almost desperate in the quiet, but now that he could hear them, he knew why RK900 was so frightened and stiff. Because it was voices. At least thirty, or maybe less, but they were all almost pleading. Like they were crying.

Gavin didn’t even pause as he walked towards them, wanting to run or burst into the room, but he knew he couldn’t. And especially with Nines on his back, half dead. So Gavin forced himself to slow down, following the sounds of the voices, RK900 growing more tense with each step. Without warning, Gavin found himself in the main room of the warehouse. And that’s when he saw them. 

The kidnapped androids.

There were at least fifty that he could see, more than he’d guessed, and there were androids of all sizes and ages. He spotted a few children, too, and that made his blood freeze, before he forced himself back. A hundred different curses were on his tongue, lodged thick in his throat, and he used every ounce of will to keep them there, as he fumbled with his flashlight and shut it off. The darkness suddenly felt oppressive. The only lights were on the catwalk, illuminating the metal, and the platform off to the side. Gavin’s eyes settled there, and that’s when he saw Jorge.

Gavin grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. 

To hell with taking this guy into police custody, Gavin was gonna take him down. 

Just as careful as last time, Gavin crept back to some place in the shadows and set Nines down, making sure the android was hidden and as comfortable as he could be. Gavin pressed a hand to his own mouth, the motion to keep silent, and then he crept away, a little guilt eating into his heart at leaving the android there. But there was no other way. And Gavin promised, as much as he could, that as soon as he took care of Jorge he’d get RK900 out of here. He’d make this right. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt the android; not again, not anymore. 

Sneaking was never Gavin’s strong suit, but he managed, and the police issue standard pistol was steady in his hands as he crept forward. Slowly, he got closer and closer to Jorge’s position. But Gavin made the mistake of looking to the side, and he caught the eyes of the captive androids. Most were awake. And they stared right at him, desperation and fear and uncertainty, and some had blood on them and others were missing parts too. A few children peered at him with tears in their eyes- _children_. But his biggest mistake was when he saw Valerie. Valerie, from the Ryuoko-Valerie case. Gavin stumbled with the realization that she was alive, that it wouldn’t just be a cold case, but Gavin literally stumbled. 

And Jorge heard. 

“Who’s there?!” Jorge shouted, and Gavin looked around for cover- anything- and found nothing, just as Jorge leaned over the catwalk, and smiled. It was a smile that was like a swamp, smarmy and slimy and leaving Gavin deeply uncomfortable. The gun was at Gavin’s side, and as much as he wanted to open fire, he could feel that Jorge was just as armed. They were at an impasse, and now Gavin would have to wait for the opportunity to fire.

“Hey! Hey, I remember you…” Jorge leaned on the railing, the lights catching the corners of his face, drawing deep shadows, “You’re a cop?”

Gavin didn’t respond. But it fairly obvious.

“That’s cool, that’s cool,” Jorge pushed off the railing, walking along the catwalk a little. His voice had an almost absent quality, like he was frantic, forgetting something on purpose and rushing through everything else, “It’s good to see you, actually. I have an offer you might like.”

And because Gavin couldn’t keep his mouth shut, he muttered, “I really doubt that.”

Jorge made a face like he had heard him, and there was a tense moment, before it passed. Jorge gestured wide, and then plopped back down to leaning on the railing, “You see all these androids? Course you do,” and then his voice got darker, “I can’t stand these machines. Everyone says they have rights now, like they’re alive, but I think you and I know that’s not true. They’re just fuckin’ machines.”

It sounded so eerily similar to how Gavin used to think that he twitched. Jorge interpreted that as a gesture to continue, but all Gavin could think about was how wrong this all was. 

“So I’m going to make you a deal,” Jorge drawled. At that, he went back to pacing around, and the androids below seemed to flinch and still. Gavin could see their faces in the shadows- terrified. Dying hope still held on their faces. Gavin couldn’t bear to look into their eyes.

“Listen. No one is going to miss these androids,” a conspiratorial tone, “I’m shipping them out tonight, and if you let this go, I’ll be sure you get a cut of the cash. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Jorge had a predatory smile, all harsh with shadow, cold and cruel with a little, small prick of pain poorly hidden, “And hey, if it works out, there’ll be plenty more where that comes from. All you need to do is walk out of here like nothing happened. What do you say?”

What did he say? What _could_ he say. There was a little insidious voice in his head that whispered cruel thoughts, from just a week ago, “ _No one would miss Connor_ ,” or, “ _They’re just machines. They’re just faking the feelings._ ”

If Gavin had found this place a week ago, he would’ve agreed in a heartbeat. That thought chilled him to the bone, curdled in his stomach and made nausea settle in his throat. The Gavin of before wouldn’t have even hesitated. 

But not this Gavin.

So Gavin opened his mouth to say, ‘no’, and he prepared to draw his pistol to fire. And he didn’t even get the chance to start. Because, from the shadows where Gavin had left him, RK900 stumbled out. His face was contorted with some kind of pain, and determination, and Gavin’s heart nearly stopped. 

“No,” he choked.

From where he stood, Jorge’s face went through a series of expressions. Surprise, anger, and then disgust. He pulled out the gun that he’d been holding at his side, and pointed it at RK900. RK900 didn’t back down from his glare, despite that he was a breath away from being shot. Gavin never felt more relieved than when Jorge started to speak. 

“You were more trouble than Cyberlife paid me for-“

Gavin shelved _that_ revelation for later, because he knew why Nines had revealed himself. He was giving Gavin an opening. Gavin had a chance to shoot Jorge, and it would be over, and everyone would be safe. Everyone but RK900. Because Gavin knew that by the time he shot Jorge, RK900 would be dead. 

He could shoot Jorge. Or he could save RK900.

Gavin made his choice. 

“No!” Gavin roared, and he tackled RK900, shoving the android out of the way from the crack of the bullet. The bullet that tore through Gavin’s hand, and he let out a hoarse yell at the pain, dropping his own gun and holding the hand to his chest. But he was still standing- still standing, despite the pain, and he used his free arm to grab RK900 and pull him close protectively. Jorge was regarding them both with a considering look.

“Oh. Oh… I see.”

Gavin snarled, “I’m not agreeing to this,” and with a deep breath, he shouted as loud as he could bear, “These androids are alive!”

And he thought of Connor. He thought of Eleanor, and Tim, and Valerie and Ryuoko and every other android out there. He thought of RK900, pushed protectively behind himself. He meant every word, every syllable that fell from his tongue, and with his squared shoulders and steeled eyes, he felt it too. His breathing was slightly heavy as he recovered, bleeding all over his jacket and glaring.

Jorge seemed like, for a moment, he was considering his words. But that was it, there and gone in an instant, before he shrugged, “Well. I can’t say I didn’t try,” and then the gun was leveled at Gavin, the weight of Jorge’s anger and hidden sorrow, “Always with the androids.”

Though Gavin couldn’t see it, in the pocket of Jorge’s inner coat was a picture of Josh. And Jorge heaved, somewhere between a derisive snort and a desperate question, “How can you care about a machine?”

Gavin could only grip RK900 harder, right before there was a flash in the darkness, a loud bang, and a gun fired. 

And Gavin blinked. He blinked again.

He was still alive. And a frantic glance to RK900 said that he was still alive too, which only left…

Jorge. Jorge, who was holding his side in surprise, which transformed into a sort of resigned acceptance as he realized what had happened and what was going to happen. He had enough strength left to grasp at something inside his coat, some piece of paper, before pain shuttered over his face and he fell to the mesh of the catwalk. He didn’t get back up.

Hank stepped out from the doorway. From the look of it, he’d been listening in for some time, but as he caught sight of Gavin, he smiled. 

Gavin’s face blossomed with relief, a pained smile as he brought up a hand to wave, and then winced, yanking the wounded hand back down. 

“Hank!” Gavin shouted, “Thank fucking god.”

“Hang on, I’m coming down to you,” Hank replied, and as Hank made it to the bottom of the stairs, Gavin was relieved to see a medical kit in his hands. At Gavin’s raised eyebrow, though, Hank just rolled his eyes, though not unpleasantly.

“I figured you’d get yourself into trouble.”

But as Hank closed the rest of the distance, he stopped, eyes frozen on RK900, who was still leaning heavily on Gavin. There was silence for a moment.

“Connor?” Hank’s voice almost cracked. Almost. Gavin shook his head.

“This is RK900,” Gavin explained, voice low, “He was… I think he was a prototype. That they made, before the Revolution. And…” and Gavin sucked in a disapproving hiss of air, “Cyberlife needed to get rid of him, so he was sold to the kidnappers.”

Gavin resisted the urge to add that, he had a sneaking suspicion Cyberlife was more involved with this than just that. That could be dealt with after. Instead, with a voice quiet, he added, “I couldn’t- I couldn’t let them hurt him anymore.”

Hank’s eyes softened, just a little, before he shook his head and began to open the medical kit, “Okay. Let’s take of your hand real quick.”

And as Hank began to get the antiseptic and gauze out, he also pulled out his radio, clicking it on and speaking into it, “DCPD this is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Detective Gavin Reed and I have found the missing androids. I need emergency and medical services sent to my location: seventy five east-“

As Hank spoke into the police radio, the androids around them began to quietly clamor. The sounds of relief, pure and sharp, and excited whispers and cries of thanks because they were saved. The police had found them, and it would be okay now. They were saved. Gavin looked up, and caught the eye of Valerie again, and they held that eye contact for a moment as she mouthed the words, ‘thank you’. Gavin just smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest as he gripped RK900 tighter.

Yeah. They’d did it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WooOoOo. Okay. So, sorry this took so long, and sorry for any errors. I have So Much Work to do that I had to peck away at this in my free time. 
> 
> But!! It’s (technically) finished!! There’s going to be an epilogue, because I love those. And after the epilogue, a friend convinced me to include a little bloopers chapter of all the funny errors I made while writing this story. So look forward to those two things. 
> 
> I’m glad you’ve all enjoyed this story so far! Stick around for a little more content, and I’m glad you’ve all supported me with your comments!!!


	15. Epilogue

Connor slept.

It didn’t matter if it was raining outside, or sunny, or whatever it would be. Connor slept, content, and for the first time in a week, relaxed and happy, and most importantly, safe. Specifically, he was sleeping on the sofa at Hank’s house ( _our_ house, Hank would say), with blankets draped over him by a fretting parent, and more than a few pillows. It was nice. 

And it was even better with Sumo sleeping there too. It seemed that the dog had missed Connor as much as Connor had missed him, and Sumo refused to leave Connor’s side for anything; also including showers. Sumo was very persistent. 

Speaking of persistent, Sumo seemed to have decided that Connor had slept too long, and that meant it was time for Immediate Licking. Connor managed to feign sleep for five seconds longer, but then Sumo started licking Connor’s ear, and Connor couldn’t contain the laughter any longer.

“Ha-Sumo- stop it, buddy!”

Sumo simply pulled back and woofed. The smile on Connor’s face was genuine, and he shook his head happily, giving the dog a few pats for the trouble. Already halfway up on the couch, Connor stretched a little and scratched at his neck. There was a scar there, in the metal, and it showed itself on the synthetic skin. Eleanor warned that it might be permanent if he wasn’t careful, or if he messed with it.

Like scratching it. Whoops. Connor’s lazy smile turned sheepish, already imagining her chastising him next they saw each other. The scar still itched a little, though- all psychological, but that didn’t make it any less irritating, so Connor grabbed the tv remote and flipped it on, absently petting Sumo as he flipped the channels.

“After a period of unusual rainfall, it seems that the weather will turn sunny for the rest of the week!” the weather forcaster boasted, “Tempertures should range from-”

Connor shook his head, and turned the tv off, setting the remote down as he plopped himself back onto the sofa. Sumo took the opportunity to whine and encrouch more on the terriorty that was Connor’s chest, and Connor laughed, pushing him off a little. Not that it worked, though, especially not when Connor was giving him scratches at the same time.

It was nice to relax. Yesterday had been a whirlwind, with the missing androids being found, and everything else, and Connor had slept through most of it. The Detroit City Police Department had given him the week off work so that he could recover- and not that he was against the idea, but it might get boring soon. Especially with Hank, Eleanor, and the others all busy-

Two courteous knocks on the front door, precise, and even though Connor could recongize those knocks, he suddenly and completely startled. He felt himself stiffen, his chest hitching and one hand fisting into Sumo’s fur with the spike of adrenaline. Sumo began to growl, eyes narrowed at the door, just as Hank stepped in. The sight of his surrogate father made Connor relax completely, though the survival instinct still buzzed around his mind, confused at the lack of action.

“Hope you don’t mind that I brought some company,” Hank gestured somewhere behind himself, and then stepped Gavin and RK900. Or, Nines as he liked to be called now. They were still working on an actual name, but there wasn’t any pressure. At the sight of them both, Connor waved, and Sumo’s tail wagged happily.

“Hi,” Connor was still getting used to the fact that he had a… brother, now? He certainly didn’t mind. But he was also so, so tired still, so everything was tinged with a vaguely ethereal quality. Nines just nodded his head and waved back, though there was a small smile. His eye had been replaced, and his hand, along with the part of his leg, and that was good. He was on the road to recovery.

Meanwhile, Gavin was, well, Gavin. In a good way. Mostly.

“Good to see you’re still alive, considering Hank wouldn’t let anyone see you at all yesterday,” Gavin needled, though there was the concern in the undercurrent of the words, as he weathered the glare from Hank. Connor smiled sheepishly, and said nothing; he wasn’t completely comfortable around Gavin, but he was working on it. It would be a slow process- it wasn’t exactly easy to forgive someone for kidnapping you and almost getting you killed- but Gavin was actually genuinely apologetic, and Connor couldn’t hold a grudge, so they were working on it. Connor might never be completely comfortable around Gavin, but he was willing to try.

Of course, Gavin had about as much free time as Connor did right now, with his temporary demotion-suspension combo. But even then, Gavin was grateful; considering what he’d done, they could have done much worse. Maybe they should’ve. But also considering the sudden rescue of however many missing androids, the DCPD was begrudgingly lenient. Though Gavin still had to attend sensitivity sessions, in between community service.

Though Gavin didn’t really count helping around at Calvin’s Center as any kind of chore. 

And speaking of, “Sorry to just drop in and leave, but I’m gonna go down early to help them out at the Center,” Gavin stated, shrugging apologetically. Connor just nodded, while Nines seemed to be too busy petting Sumo to really mind, even as Gavin added, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Say hi to Jef- to Fowler for me,” Hank grumbled, adding something on about ‘always late’ as he unpacked some groceries.

“Yeah, I got it.”

The drive to Calvin’s Center was familiar, and in some ways, calming, especially with the sun occasionally peeking out through buildings. Gavin drummed his fingers on the wheel, and he felt a little sad that Nines had opted to stay behind today. Elijah really liked spending time with him. Well, and the kid liked spending time with Gavin, but maybe Gavin got a little nervous not having Nines around, and maybe he got a little nervous having a kid that looked up to him so much. It made him feel a little like… well, a dad. 

Calvin’s Center came into view. It was hard to believe that a few days ago, Connor had nearly died here. But at least the bodies of the kidnappers were buried yesterday. As Gavin parked the car, he could see a few familiar faces outside, tending to some parts of the building. Mostly the teens, fighting over something in the garden, as Jaydee triumphantly held a pair of dirt-covered garden gloves and Artyom hollered in betrayal. Was- was Tim eating a worm? Gavin sure hoped not. Lawson would stop the boy if he was… probably. 

“It’s Gavin!” Artyom noticed first, much to the confused bewilderment of the new arrivals that were outside as well. Predictably, Artyom still wasn’t very excited to see Gavin, “Get him!” 

Artyom started throwing dirt. It didn’t get very far. Then Elijah came around the corner, and immediately started throwing dirt at Artyom in retaliation, and Gavin quietly slipped into the Center itself. 

Like he’d said, Elijah was a good kid. Maybe sometime when things weren’t so hectic, he’d ask Jeremy about looking after the teen.

But back to the inside of Calvin’s Center. It was a far different scene than a few days ago, and that was mostly because of how many people were here now. Not all of them were permanent residents, but many were here from the warehouse, needing somewhere to stay temporarily. And that meant there was always tons of work to do. Gavin had just started looking around for Eleanor or Jeremy, when he caught sight of someone slightly familiar. An android, one he recognized from before.

Valerie.

Valerie, and her partner, Ryuoko. Smiling  
happily together, sharing a small kiss, and as Valerie pulled away she locked eyes with Gavin, and her smile only grew. She waved a little, mouthing the words, ‘thank you’, and she was a far cry from the terrified woman that they’d saved from that warehouse. And Gavin couldn’t be more thankful. Especially when Ryuoko noticed as well, and her smile was large enough to make her eyes hurt, with a few tears and just pure gratitude in her hoarse thanks. Gavin just nodded back, and then turned away, looking for Eleanor in the crowd, and finding her. 

Eleanor stood near the back of the living room, talking to and directing a few androids around, some dust on her clothes but a determined expression right at home on her face. When she noticed Gavin, she even gave him a tight smile too. They’d both talked things out, once everything had calmed down- she had apologized, for how she snapped at him and called his apology worthless. Gavin couldn’t really blame her. Things weren’t perfect, but they were working on that too, and Gavin was going to make sure that everyone knew that he was trying his best to change and redeem himself.

“Need a hand?” Gavin called, and as he strode across the room he passed by Jeremy and Fowler, talking off to the side. 

Jeremy and Fowler were watching the organized chaos with an expression of fondness. It had been too long since they’d simply hung out, like old pals. Though, it was kind of hard for an illegal android supporter and the police captain to be public friends. Jeremy even mentioned that, after a few quiet snorts, and Fowler’s expression was laughter. 

“It sure is easier now that I don’t have to pretend not to notice all the deviant androids you were, what did you say back then? Holding onto for a friend?”

Jeremy chuckled, elbowing Jeffery, “A very rich friend, who kept giving away androids to me. And then I’d, uh, ‘break them’, hence all the new ones. Twenty a month. It was so tragic.”

“Tragic, right. I’m sure a fresh start in Canada really is tragic.”

And then the two old military friends shared a look, which dissolved in fits of barely contained giggles, slighty breathy in an almost exhausted way. They were allowed to be exhausted, after all the stuff that had happened recently. And once they died down, Jeremy exhaled.

“Never did get caught, though.”

And Jeffery smiled. He looked out onto the sea of people- androids and humans alike, working together, coming together, laughing and kindness all in the room. It was nice. It was like a home, and Fowler couldn’t stop himself from quietly saying, “Calvin would be happy.”

Jeremy’s smile was a little smaller, a little sadder, but still there.

“Yeah. He would be.”

It was everything Calvin had ever wanted. A place for the downtrodded, for the lost, the confused, the scared. For the people that didn’t have anywhere else to go. A place for anyone who needed it, anyone lost in the world. A little ramshackle lost and found, where people can find themselves a home.

The sun shone high above Detroit, and for once, the city was bathed in warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. The epilogue is finally done too. Hooooh boy, that just leaves the bloopers and then we are done! Stay tuned for that


	16. Bloopers and Extra

Instances of the word [shit/fuck/damn]: 137  
Instances of the word [rain/raining]: 93  
Instances of the word [sorry]: 36

 

I sat in my apartment, eyes closed- not really. Half closed, actually, as I looked at my phone. Specifically, as I looked at the dialogue for chapter three, which I had taken to calling the “big slappy” chapter.

“Please, don’t-” I begged, then abruptly paused, “No. Maybe more ‘please’,” and then I edited the dialogue and frowned some more. 

When I write dialogue, if it’s important enough, I act it out. Which means I quickly resumed sounding like I was being murdered.

“You don’t have to do this,” voice cracks and all, and then an all important moment of silence as I stopped again. And I considered how this sounded.

Hm.

“I’m not. I’m not being murdered, if anyone can actually hear this.”

 

 

Chapter eleven. I’d taken to calling it “mmm whatcha say.” And, those three chapters? I’d been waiting to write them for months. They were originally one single chapter, until, hm, that’s actually 10k words in a single chapter.

Anyway. I like acting out my stuff. So I was sitting on my floor again- having done the whole fight scene too- and now I was ‘dying’. I had to make sure the poses all made sense, y’know. More sobbing too. Very dramatic.

Or it would have been, if my cats hadn’t noticed. And they were both very, very concerned, and decided it was Lick Time. Trying to pretend you’ve been murdered is hard when your cats are trying to sit on you.

 

 

Chapter four. When Connor first meets up with Eleanor and Jeremy. Jeremy says, “Take it easy, we’re not gonna hurt you.”

However, as I type, there is a typo. Jeremy actually accidentally says:

“Take it easy, we’re _gonna_ hurt you.”

I stare at my document in silence.

 

 

Sometimes I write too much at once. Sometimes I write 10k in 3-4 hours. Sometimes I regret this. 

Google search for: 

Carpal tunnel  
Carpal tunnel symptoms  
Carpal tunnel support  
Amazon carpal tunnel device 

 

Google search for: 

Cut throat injuries  
[Images]  
[Article about cut throat injures]  
Stitches  
Stitches vs sutures  
Medical treatment in the field  
How much blood does a normal person have  
Cauterization  
Wikipedia cauterization  
Does cauterization still work

 

Jeremy. Gavin. Hank. Do you know how many times I swapped one of these names around on accident? Too many. _Too many._

“Hank opened the door,” wait, no he didn’t, Hank isn’t in this scene. Or, “Jeremy grabbed Connor,” no, hold on.

 

If this story had a sad ending, the chapter would’ve been called “Lost and Never Found”. 

 

 

Sometimes people ask me what I think of Gavin. I hate the Gavin from the actual game. This Gavin? Love this guy. David Cage’s Gavin? What an absolutely stinky man. 

But why did I redeem Gavin? Because it’s important that you know that most everyone is redeemable. No matter how dumb you are, or how bad you are, or how broken or sad or hurt or bitter, you can atone. You can try to be better. It won’t be easy- this is 30k of a redemption fic, let’s be real- but you are never too far gone. You are never, never ever, beyond saving.

And it was also pretty fun as a challenge. Mr Generic Racist Villain gains a personality, flaws, and regret. David Cage, eat your heart out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Blank-Ace for being the sole reason this story exists. Without them, I wouldn’t have written it to begin with, since I worried I’d never finish it. Yet here we are.
> 
>  
> 
> And a special thanks to you, the reader. Yes, you. Without your support and reviews, I probably wouldn’t have finished the story, since I thrive off validation from strangers on the internet. Thank you for taking the time to read this story and thank you for enjoying it.
> 
> May you all find happiness and family too.


End file.
